The Ward
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: Dick Grayson knew a lot of things. He was fluent in Romani, brilliant at math and he could land a triplesault from twenty feet up. Of all that though, he had never known anything more than the fact that he and the other five patients at Arkham Asylum didn't belong there.
1. Chapter 1

**Here's another attempt for a story on my part. I have the next few chapters plotted out, so I hope people like this one. I have a good plan with it, I'm sure of it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the mentioned characters, songs, products or locations.**

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Dick's POV:

When I woke up, the only thing I was sure of was that I wasn't in my own bed.

I'm not much an expert on mattresses, but it only took a turn onto my side in an effort to go back to sleep to notice how stiff the one I was on was. It couldn't have been very thick, and if it was, it had springs hopped up on steroids.

The pillow I had my arm curled under was like something you'd find in a dollhouse and I was sure if I moved wrong, I'd have some nasty paper cuts when I got up. A part of me seemed to conclude that there wasn't a pillow and my arm was just bloated to an alarming size, but the fabric was a bit rougher than my arm hair.

If there had been a blanket at any point, I must have kicked it far from my reach. I didn't see myself needing one though, seeing how stuffy the air around me was. Was it summer? I couldn't remember.

My first attempt to open my eyes and investigate was cut short when I was met with a blinding white in front of my face. It left my head in a twister and gave my stomach a sickening lurch that had me noticing the vague taste of plastic on my tongue.

Some cereal would wash that right out. I hoped we had some Cinnamon Toast Crunch in the pantry. I'd settle for Captain Crunch, but nothing beats those crazy squares in all honesty.

I tried to get up again, sitting up before I opened my eyes.

Now I was aware of two things: I wasn't in my own bed, and now I wasn't in my own room.

One look around told me that I wouldn't be getting my cereal.

The bed I was in had a blue sheet over the mattress which wasn't much taller than I was, ended by a thin white rail that must have served for a headboard in earlier years. Now it was just pathetic, and in need of a paint job. The same shade of blue was on the sheets pooled by my feet, confirming my suspicions of having kicked it far away. Nestled within them was a stuffed elephant that I didn't recognize but somehow knew the name to.

"What are you doing down there, Zitka?" I murmured, tensing to find my voice hoarse as I gathered the elephant into my arms.

Zitka's ears were weathered down to the point that I could see the stuffing behind the loose gray fabric, but my eyes were on her outer ear. A name was stitched there delicately. Mine.

Richard.

I couldn't explain it, but I knew she had to be mine. There had been a Zitka around when I was growing up. It took a second, but I remembered that she had been an elephant as well. She had been an elephant in the circus, but not the international tour because she was finicky during long train rides.

I had been in a circus. Yeah. It was coming back to me. Haley's Circus. I had been an acrobat; a Flying Grayson with my mom and dad. We were the opening act to most shows because the crowd loved a good trapeze act.

Past tense. Why was I using past tense? What happened that changed that?

Oh.

My parents had fallen. One of the wires holding the bar up had been sabotaged and snapped during one of our shows and they fell to the ground where dad's neck had broken and mom's foot had bent up to touch her shoulder.

I hugged Zitka close for a moment and took a slow breath.

It wasn't an accident. Someone had arranged it. I remembered him now. He had an Italian accent and a cool hat, and he was always chewing on a tooth pick. A mob boss, I think, and he had wanted money from the circus. He threatened to hurt us if we didn't pay, but dad told him to scram because we weren't afraid.

The police believed it had been faulty wiring, no matter what I said. The only other witnesses were dead. Why would they believe a little kid?

How long ago had that been? How old was I?

I was fifteen. They had fallen April 1st, twelve days after my ninth birthday. Who would believe a nine year old?

Enough wallowing. I put Zitka down and looked at the rest of the room around me.

It wasn't that big, to start. Besides my bed, the only other thing in it was a small white sink with a mirror above it. I didn't have to get up to know that I had a tooth brush and toothpaste in the cabinet behind the mirror. Someone wouldn't let me put anything else back there, but I couldn't remember who. My parents were dead. I didn't have any other family to serve as a guardian. Who could have told me that?

There was a small poster of a woman in a purple mask with green hair blown high by a wind of sorts. It was a popular advertisement for Haley's Circus. I had no idea why it was here because I knew it wasn't mine, but then again, this _room _wasn't mine. White walls weren't my style, or slated doors.

Was I in prison? No, prison wouldn't allow stuffed animals, probably for reputation's sake, and it'd be a lot more open. It didn't look like solitary confinement and I definitely wasn't in prison wear.

I had a loose fitting white shirt and baggy white sweatpants that were two sizes too big, meaning I hadn't dressed myself. That led me to wonder who had.

I got up carefully and walked over to the sink, gripping its sides before looking into the mirror and choking.

My hair was disheveled and shooting up every which way, looking as if I hadn't dyed it in a long time. The brown was bleeding heavily through the black and looked terrible. The white of my eyes were bloodshot, leaving the blue looking almost purple now which seemed to compliment the bags beneath them. My lips were broken and bloody, as if I had just lost a fight. I ran my tongue along them gently and flinched.

What had happened? Where was I? What was the last thing I remembered?

I leaned my head down over the sink and screwed my eyes up tight in an effort to remember, but my head was still spinning.

There was the orphanage. I remembered that. I shared a room with ten other boys who treated me like a freak because I had actually known my family.

I remembered biting my tongue whenever they'd call me ungrateful. I had lost everything. They were alone to begin with. There was no way they could understand.

That was all I remembered though. There wasn't a yesterday available in my memory banks. It was all a haze and I hated it.

It would come to me. It had to.

I nearly gave a shriek as I heard the door unlock before rushing back away from it. I expected a man with a scar over his eye and a thick cigar in his mouth, not a blonde haired nurse with a tray in hand. She called my name in a bit of annoyance and gestured me over, handing me a small cup of pills and a cup of water. Her nametag read 'Dinah'.

I slipped the pills under my tongue and took a drink, handing her back the cups and stepping back so she could close the door. Once it was shut, I spit the pills into my palm and stuffed them into my pillowcase.

It had my mouth tasting even more of plastic. I must have taken the pills before now.

How long had I been here?

Better yet, where was I?

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**-F.J. III**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for the support so far! I really want to drag this one out because I'm hoping it'll be interesting. I promise you'll meet the other patients soon enough, but not in this chapter. If you want any specific pairings, I will work subtle hints in, but this is not a romantic intended story. Any questions, feel free to ask. Or requests for that matter.**

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Dick's POV:

When I was younger, I had hated clocks. It wasn't necessarily the deadlines and bedtimes it led to that bothered me, or how I struggled for the higher portion of my life with trying to read the long clock hands, but those all factored. My hatred had stemmed from the maddening tick and tock that would beat on all night, no matter how hard I had the pillow thrown over my ears.

One night, I had taken the batteries out just so I could get some good sleep. Needless to say, when we were three hours late to practice, I was grounded and forced to help the trainers clean up after their animals for a good month.

The point is, I took them for granted. Now, I would _kill _for a clock. I'd even settle for a window to check the sun for even the slightest reference.

After Dinah had shut my door, I had no idea how long I sat in the white room. I tried counting at some point, but the numbers didn't help my headache much, so I retired and decided to look around the room. Maybe there was a pocket watch or nail file hidden. Maybe a gun. Anything would be better than this.

Behind the mirror, there was just a tooth brush and toothpaste. I managed to get the shelves out, but nothing was hollowed or hidden in there. At least if I smuggled something back, I knew where to hide it.

The sink had similar results, and I may or may not have almost ruptured the pipe in trying to get it open. I'd stay away from the sink for a while just to be safe.

I checked behind the poster and under the bed, coming up empty. The headboard wasn't of much help either.

Only when I had felt around in the sheet around the mattress did I actually find something. It was a thin domino mask, black and diamond shaped in perfect condition. Curiously, I set it over my eyes and looked at my reflection.

It almost looked natural, as if it were mine.

I gave a laugh at the thought and pulled it off, hiding it back in the sheet. If need be, I could rob someone now, at least.

"Stay back," I murmured with a small smile, "I've got a toothbrush and I know how to use it."

I feigned a few jabs and chuckled softly before realizing how insane I sounded. The white was getting to my brain. Shaking my head free of the crazy, I tried my best to start combing my hair flat and kept my mind on the mask. Why would it be in here? Where _was _here?

What felt like hours later, I had taken to knocking on the white painted bricks on the wall, listening for a hollow sound. Maybe the mask's owner had hidden me a weapon, or better yet, a cape. I could be a superhero and save myself.

Yeah. Right.

At some point, I even stood on the headboard and pushed on the ceiling, amazed by my balance but disappointed in my lack of discovery.

The door was firmly locked and the floor was solid, as well. I even took to singing for a while, loudly and off-key, but the silence was driving holes into my temples and I had to do something. Three rounds of _Tuesday's Gone _later, I heard my door open and rushed to my feet.

A man with black hair stood outside, an obnoxious curl hanging down in the middle of his forehead. According to his nametag, his name was Clark.

"Come with me, Dick," he offered me a lame smile and I followed after him hesitantly.

He led me down a hallway and as I looked around, I saw a lot of other rooms lining it. Most of them didn't have names beside them, but there were a good few with a lazily scrawled name on a chalkboard outside of it. Mine had said Richard, and the d had been written tiny due to a lack of space. That bit amused me just a little, helping me to forget the smell of hospital that had my head throbbing.

Clark took me to a nicer looking door with a nameplate on it instead of a chalkboard, but it didn't have a name. It just said counseling in blocky letters.

"Hey, I don't need a counselor," I interrupted as he knocked at the door, "I'd just like to get out of here. I don't know where I am."

The man turned back to me with a slight roll of his eyes.

"They must've dosed you pretty high, kid. You're at Arkham Asylum."

Before the words could even sink in, the door opened and he gave me an encouraging shove inside, closing the door behind me.

"A-Asylum?" I breathed against the door with wide eyes. "I'm no… I'm not crazy…"

A small grin pushed over my lips, but it didn't belong there. I was scared sick, maybe even terminally. Send me to sick bay and get me the hell out of here.

"We never said you were crazy, Mr. Grayson. Please, take a seat."

The voice was gravelly, like a back road with tires squealing over it in an effort to gain some leverage and get by quickly. I would appreciate some leverage right now.

I turned carefully and gave the room a once over. The walls were a honey sort of yellow and there was carpet under my feet. Inspirational posters were hung here and there, tossed in with a few photos of a tall man, his grandpa and three little black haired boys. One boy's face was cut out of all of the photos, but I didn't ask.

At the center of the room was an oak desk with a man behind it. His hair was slicked back and his cheek bones stood out as if they had been drawn on with sharpie. I recognized him in the back of my mind I thought, but I couldn't be sure. His nameplate read Bruce Wayne, head counselor. He gestured with a large hand for me to sit in comfortable looking chair in front of his desk, so I took a seat.

"Thank you," he smiled warmly at me before interlacing his fingers and setting them on the desk, "My name is Bruce, and I'm the main counselor here at Arkham Asylum. Do you have any questions?"

I had millions.

"Why am I here?" was the first one I managed out, eyes flitting nervously over the room.

There was a window to my left and the sun shone brightly through it, so I had to assume it was about eleven. The shades were drawn pretty tight though, so there was no being sure.

"You were believed to be a danger to yourself, so it was recommended that you were placed here for your own safety."

A danger to myself? I looked out over my arms, looking for cuts or any scars of sorts that would suggest self-harm, but I was clean.

"Who recommended it? I don'… I don't remember…" I tugged a bit at my hair to ground myself, "I don't remember anything."

Bruce raised his eyebrows in surprise, sliding a case file out in front of him and opening it. There was a picture, and I was sure that it was me.

"Tell me what you do remember, then," he encouraged.

I didn't need this. I just needed to patch in the last few months and then go back to wherever home was. From the look on his face though, I wasn't getting any information from him until I gave him some. Quid pro quo, this for that, as Hannibal Lecter once taught me.

"My name is Richard John Grayson and I'm fifteen years old," I started carefully with what I was certain of, "My parents were a John and Mary Grayson, deceased. I believe they were murdered, but there was no evidence. Shortly after their funeral, I was moved to an orphanage in Gotham City where they diagnosed me with depression. I took some pills and got better. Never adopted, but it was only because I didn't want to be."

I hoped that would be enough, but I had only just caught his attention from the quirk on his lips.

"Why is that?"

I stared him, "Why's what?"

"Why didn't you want to be adopted?" he corrected himself with an apologetic smile, gesturing me to go on with a roll of his hand.

I rubbed at my neck, looking down at the arm of the chair. Something told me this guy had his folks stashed away in a nursing home somewhere.

"The other kids deserved homes more," I shrugged.

A part of me wanted to tell him that no home could replace the one I had been taken from, but I wanted to sound sane enough that he'd realize I wasn't crazy and let me out of here.

He was quiet, biting at his lip in thought before giving another nod. It made me think, for just a second, that he'd fill me in.

"You don't remember anything past that?" he concluded, drawing a silent groan past my lips.

My head fell back and I shut my eyes to hide the fact that I rolled them, keeping my face towards the ceiling before I was calm again.

"Should I?" there was a strain in my voice from the annoyance, but I kept it in the hopes that he'd get the point.

He didn't.

"Look, I don't belong here. I don't know who told you, but I'm not crazy," I scratched my head from frustration, taking a slow breath.

"You're not crazy," he interrupted me with a brief smile.

I gave a slow blink.

"I'm in an asylum."

"Mental institution," he corrected carefully.

Oh yes, wouldn't want to offend the nut jobs by making them think they were insane. My teeth were pressed tight enough to keep the pang in the back of my brain strong and I was considering using the flag in Mr. Wayne's pen jar to stab his neck just to get an Advil.

"Whatever," I cut the fantasy short, deciding to bait out my reason for 'institutionalization'. "Am I on suicide watch?"

"Should you be?"

If anything, this guy would be the one who drove me insane. It took a bit more effort to unclench my hands from their fists and I put on a fake smile.

"I'm not depressed. Please, I'm done playing this… little… _game _of yours. Just tell me why I'm here," I begged, entwining my fingers on my lap so I wouldn't break my knuckles in the fists that wouldn't unclench.

Bruce's eyebrow rose when I called it a game and he seemed to scrutinize me with a deep cutting look. I couldn't tell if he didn't believe me or if he was enjoying this.

"You tell me, Mr. Grayson. About your parents. Why do you believe they were murdered?"

I eyed the flag with purpose for a long while, now just tempted to stab him for bringing them up. I didn't need counseling for this. It made me sad, yeah, but losing your parents does that. It hurts, a lot!

"Is that why I'm here? You all think my parents' death is making me lose my marbles?" I tried to work it out, but the words made him shake his head in genuine offense.

"Your marbles are all accounted for. You aren't crazy. Just tell me."

Now I was certain that he was messing with me. It was a bit too elaborate for a prank, but he couldn't be serious. I might as well play along.

"We were all in the circus. Big trapeze act, the bolts were loosened and they jumped. Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall and watched both of his parents fall," I gave a mock head sway to the song the other kids had sang to me when they found out why I was in the orphanage, "Look, the therapists all say the same thing. It was an accident and I just needed someone to blame. No. A mob boss tried to exhort money from the circus and my dad stopped him. It was a hit. Last I heard, the boss was shot, so I've gotten my revenge. He suffered."

I held Bruce's dark gaze and waited, hoping and praying silently under my breath, straightening up a bit when he gave a nod and shut my case file.

"I see. Alright, head on down to the common room to meet the other patients. Down the hall to your left," he stood up and went to put my file in a cabinet, bringing me to my feet with wide eyes.

No, that wasn't the deal. This for that. I was owed some information in return.

"Why am I in here?" I demanded to know, grabbing onto his desk and glaring at the back of his neck.

He wouldn't meet my eyes, keeping his attention on the rows of files in his cabinet drawer with the smallest hint of a smile.

"Goodbye, Mr. Grayson."

I stormed around the side of his desk, fully intending to beat the information out of him. The crazy was in my head and I was going to use it until the gaps in my memory were replaced, even if it meant going to prison for assault.

"Clark?"

A hand grabbed at my arm at the requesting tone and I looked up to see the unamused stare of the man who had brought me here. I resisted and tried freeing my arm, but he had a grip unlike anything I'd ever known.

"No! Please! Just tell me why I'm here!" I pleaded, grabbing at the door desperately to try and anchor myself.

I only managed to buy myself a second to see Bruce smile up at me, taking a seat back behind his desk.

"Enjoy your stay at Arkham Asylum."

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**-F.J. III**


	3. Chapter 3

**You all responded pretty quickly which just makes my day. I'm really happy for the support. In this chapter, you'll meet the rest of the team. I altered their pasts **_**extremely**_**, so please refrain from calling me out on it. I did it to make up for the fact that they don't currently have their powers. It will all make sense eventually, but brace yourself anyway because I may have gotten a bit gory in my descriptions.**

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Dick's POV:

I struggled against Clark's hold for a good portion of the hallway, but after he made the threat to sedate me, I followed behind like an obedient puppy. This particular puppy was plotting the right time to jump his owner and bash his head in on a corner, but I trailed closely all the same with a soft growl in the back of my throat.

I had taken to glaring at the floor, which eventually led to me crashing into my leader. My nose ached as if it had been a brick wall instead. Rubbing it begrudgingly, I glared up at the man, expecting a perfectly good reason for being stopped in the middle of a hallway with nothing around.

For a second, I was worried that he'd try to rape me.

"It's the weirdest thing, kid, but I don't remember why you're here either," the man touched a hand to my shoulder and I froze, "I don't even remember anyone bringing you in here. I was patrolling the halls and next thing I know, there's a new occupied room. In fact, I don't remember any of the patients actually being brought here. They just… show up. Your best bet is to ask them."

I stared at him hard, searching his face for the slightest hint that he was lying to me. His story sounded like a complete load of crap, to be honest. He worked here! He'd have to notice this stuff.

"What do you mean 'they just show up'?" I wanted to test how strong his prank story really was.

He must've been listening in while I was talking to Bruce and plotted some elaborate plan to trick me. Clark really seemed to be determined though, looking both ways before lowering his voice even more.

"I know it's going to sound like I'm crazy… I feel like I am… but… I don't remember signing up to work here. One second I was a reporter, and the next I was a security guard. The patients started showing up out of nowhere every time I came back down the hallway. Bruce pretends to know everything, but I don't think he's fully _there _either, you get me?"

My heart stilled in my chest and I felt goosebumps line my arms at the sudden chill to race over me, as if a ghost had body-slammed me. The words didn't quite sit.

"Your best bet is to talk to the patients and see if they remember anything," he straightened and looked behind me, eyes widening for a second.

I peeked back and tensed to see another guard walking by. One look at his face and I had to avert my eyes to the wall to keep my stomach still. It was all red and puffy, like a burn victim of sorts, and there were scars driven over it that were a bubbly kind of yellow. His forehead was jutted forward from the accident and had his eyes left as only a dark shadow.

"What are you two talking about?" he spoke in an emotionless monotone that made me unconsciously step closer to Clark.

The man gave a soft laugh, offering a tiny grin.

"Hey, John. Ah, nothing really. I was just scaring the newest patient while I could," he grinned cynically down at me and my heart shot down to my feet.

I knew it. I really was crazy. This guy was just making fun of me. Wasn't that great?

Clark gave a chuckle towards me and tousled my hair before stepping back, "You know how crazy you sounded in there, kid? God, that was _way _too easy. You should've seen your face!"

He imitated it, wide eyes and parted lips in hope before shaking it off and laughing harder, bringing a robotic laugh from the man with the face I wouldn't look at.

"Children are precious with their imaginations. I'd kill for that kind of optimism," was monotoned again.

"Me too. Run along, Dick. We don't have all day."

I sighed and backed away from both of them, following Bruce's instructions and coming out of the corridor into a cozy little living space. The footsteps were becoming more distant, so it was safe to assume Clark and John were leaving.

So this was the common room.

I looked around with my heavy heart and took it in. Three couches were set around a large TV along the wall to my left and a fish tank set against the wall-made corner full of bright flashes of little fish swimming around. The light green of the wall was interrupted with large open windows that let me see the outside, which consisted of a lot of forest and a merciless sun, two small arm chairs beneath each window.

It wasn't necessarily big, but it almost felt _right_ as I stepped in. Another glance had me counting about five kids littered amongst the furniture.

On the couch facing me, a blonde girl was reclined over the cushions. She looked to be Vietnamese, though I wasn't really sure, and her hair draped down onto the floor in a way that reminded me of Rapunzel. A rubber band was fastened around her index and middle finger and she was shooting paper wads up at a picture of a target taped onto the ceiling above.

Not far behind her, sitting right in front of the fish tank, was a dark-skinned boy with thin, pale yellow hair. The colors were a bit of an odd combination, but I couldn't really complain. His head followed a certain fish behind the tank's glass in what had to be utter amusement. I couldn't see his face to be sure, but he didn't seem bored by it.

Tracing down the windows, a boy and a girl sat side-by-side beneath a clear view of the trees outside. The girl had red hair hanging down past her shoulders and a small headband gating her bangs from the rest of her hair and freckles pressed over her pale cheeks. She was talking, but her attention seemed to be on some other planet. The boy had loose hanging black hair and the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen. He had a stuffed monkey in his lap and was idly trying to dismember it.

Retracing my sights, the last kid sat in front of the TV, changing the channel rapidly before the picture could even show with one hand while his other tapped a rhythm out on his thigh. His hair was a dirty red, and as I found out when he turned to smile at me, he had more freckles than the red-haired girl by the window.

Not particularly liking the attention, I took a seat on the couch across from the blonde girl and set my hands in my lap. I stared at my knees for a long time, a soft sigh bordering behind my lips.

"Hey, kid. What are you in for?" a friendly voice chirped and I looked up to see the redhead grinning at me again.

The question caught me off-guard and I blinked in surprise, giving the blonde enough time to smack the back of his head with a paper wad.

"This isn't prison," she sourly chided him, giving me a smile before returning to her make-shift sling shot.

The boy grimaced and glared at her, arms folding over his chest, "Then apparently, you and I aren't eating the same food."

The girl tried not to, but I saw a small grin cross her lips before she managed to extinguish it. The redhead had missed it, seeing that he had been more focused on getting up and coming to sit by me. His smile was assuring, for the oddest of reasons.

"Ignore frostbite over there. My name's Wally," he held his hand out and I carefully took it, shaking it and appreciating how gentle he was.

"Uh, Dick," I introduced myself and returned the smile, setting my hands back in my lap when he let go.

It put a childish grin on his lips and he apologized the second he noticed it, trying his best not to laugh.

"Sorry, just… just, really?" when I nodded, he gave a final laugh before forcing himself to stop and smiling when he saw I was smiling too, "At least you've got a good attitude about all this. You'll do just fine. Want me to introduce you to everybody?"

Although I really wanted nothing more than to just go home, I nodded anyway. Wally seemed nice enough.

"Sweet," he looked down to his knees for a brief second before looking out over the room, "Where do I start…?"

I stayed quiet and let him decide, drawing my legs up onto the couch under me and sitting on my calves. It didn't take long for him to put his game plan together.

"Alright, I'll start with me. Like I said, I'm Wally, and I have ADHD. Apologies in advance. You'll hate me most days. They all do," he smiled in spite of it and rubbed at his neck before seeming to remember what he was saying, "Oh yeah! Seventeen, by the way. I knocked a vat of acid over in my uncle's lab while playing basketball inside. The equipment I knocked it onto blew up and killed him. Lawyers blamed my ADHD, you know, can't sit still, and I got sent here instead of prison."

A part of me was waiting to feel my eyelids tear from being open that wide. A while ago, I may have been horrified that I was sitting next to a murderer. Now, I wanted to hug him for how bitter he sounded at saying he wasn't sent to prison. I settled for touching a hand to his shoulder delicately. For the oddest reason, I wanted nothing more than to bring his smile back. He looked naked without it.

"It was an accident," I assured him softly and put on a delicate smile that just felt right, "Every kid is told not to play ball inside… and we all do it. You didn't know."

The words seemed to cheer him up, so I pulled my hand back.

"Thanks," he gave a sheepish smile, meeting my eyes once and then gesturing to the blonde on the couch, "Now, let's start introductions with blondie over there."

I gave a little nod and looked from her back to him to show he had my attention. I mean, he did, but I wanted to assure him. I felt like he needed that much.

"That's Artemis. She's seventeen, too. Her dad beat her sister to death, paralyzed her mom and tried to kill her, too. Her uncle happened to come by to return her dad's bow and well… you can guess how that ended. Our little Rapunzel was sent here to live out survivor's guilt."

The blonde sat up a bit and tucked the rubber band around her wrist, offering me a feeble smile.

"Not really survivor's guilt," she shrugged, hopping up and walking over to shake my hand.

I shook it gently, not failing to miss the subtle kick she sent for Wally's leg.

"I'm more here because I don't want to be stuck in some dumpy apartment with my mom somewhere. I like it here better."

The words made my stomach turn, but I gave her a smile and she retreated back to her couch. Wally rolled his eyes in annoyance, covering the side of his mouth with his hand so she wouldn't catch his words.

"I'm the one with survivor's guilt. If I'm dead, I don't have to listen to her bull," he whispered and I couldn't help but crack a grin.

I sensed their banter was borderline flirting, which made it just that much better.

"Enough with her though. Please avert your eyes to the fine dark gentleman back by the fish tank."

I obeyed and paid him a glance before retracting my gaze back to Wally.

"That's Kaldur'ahm. We think he's eighteen, but he uh… well… he's an odd one."

At hearing his name, the teen got up and started for us. His eyes were a basic silver and I had to admit, I wanted them.

"His father tried to drown him and his pregnant mom. She died, he didn't. He faked being unconscious until his dad left, and now he's convinced he's part fish," Wally gave a little laugh, as if it still surprised him, but it made my heart ache.

Someone that old resorting to some childish idea to cope… When Kaldur'ahm offered his hand, I bravely took it and shook.

"What kind of fish are you?" I asked him calmly, causing Wally to stare at me in disbelief, but the blond grinned.

"I am an Atlantean," he beamed proudly, "Meaning I coexist on both land and water. You may call me Kaldur, if you would like."

I gave him a broad smile, "It's nice to meet you, Kaldur."

When he returned to his fish tank, Wally hissed out an, "Are you serious?!" but I just smiled.

"It makes him happy," I gave a shrug, "Go on?"

The green eyes rolled in annoyance, but I saw the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Now to the lovely couple in the back, Megan—er, sorry, _M'Gann_, as she prefers it sometimes—and Conner. They're both eighteen," he paused, trying to decide who to start with.

"Megan has Double Identity Disorder. Her other self, M'Gann, was apparently trapped inside her family's house so she set it on fire and ended up killing the rest of her family. Her uncle locked her up in here as result, bringing M'Gann with them."

The girl gave a big smile at waved, calling out a timid, "Hello!"

Wally returned the smile, but I was almost certain that it was fake as he waved back.

"And then Conner… some baddies broke into his folks' house and to save him, they locked him in a closet. They were killed, so he sat there in that closet for two months and fell into a coma. He was discovered by some human traffickers who put him in the same cage as a little monkey they used in their introduction performances. When he tried to escape, it mauled him—the scars on his chest are pretty ugly. The police found him at the zoo with a baseball bat, attacking the monkeys in the exhibit."

The ebony didn't bother to look at me, managing only a grunt as he continued to pull at the stuffed monkey's arm in a lazy effort. I was glad that the couple kept their distance.

"Now it's your turn, Dick."

I tensed a bit, eyebrows furrowing. "My… turn?"

He gave a smile and threw an arm around my shoulders. I could tell he was affectionate and even though it made me a bit uncomfortable, I was pretty sure there was nothing I could do about it.

"Introductions, that's how they work. I introduced the people to you, so introduce you to the people. You know. That sort of stuff," he did his best, pulling back his arm and gesturing for me to go for it.

I sat quietly and blinked. He wanted to know why I was in here. So did I.

"Um… I… I actually don't…" I started, but he was insistent.

A part of me was tempted to make up a big story about how I had brutally murdered everyone in the orphanage for making fun of me, but I didn't want to blow my chances of making accomplices here to help me escape.

"I… I'm actually suffering from some nasty amnesia. All I really know is that… well… I was in the circus—an acrobat, actually… and a mob boss loosened the bolt on the bar so my parents fell. They looked a bit like broken gingerbread cookies down on the ground… and um… no one believed me that they were murdered."

Wally stared at me for a moment, looking me up and down once before he seemed to draw his own conclusions.

"You're probably in here so the mob won't hack you to bits and feed you to the sharks," he teased with a little wink before adding, "Were you any good?"

"Any good?"

"The acrobat thing."

"Oh… Ah, yeah. Yeah, I was pretty good."

I didn't like the way he smiled at that.

"Well then, Dick," he looked around at the other occupants and I copied him, "Welcome to the League."

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	4. Chapter 4

**I will honestly attempt to post an update every day, but I can't promise there will be one. Suggestions are still always welcome and every question will be answered if it's possible for you to receive PMs. I hope you enjoy this one.**

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Dick's POV:

I felt as if I had just been through a gang initiation without any previous warning to it, now a part of some so-called 'League' of kids with pasts nastier than the straight black coffee dad used to leave in his Dennis the Menace coffee cup on the counter in our family's trailer.

Upon asking though, I was assured that there wasn't any sort of ritual I had to go through, and just having my name on a door in the B Ward was all it took. I was more relieved than I should've been.

Wally teased me plenty for it, going as far as to make up a surprisingly realistic story of the time they actually had an initiation where the newest member had to sneak down the stairs without being noticed and bring back something from the warden's office. I had believed him, wondering who the warden could possibly be in a place like this, up until he burst into giggles at telling me that the member had brought back lace panties and a clown costume.

"Don't take everything so seriously, kid," he tousled my hair with a grin wide on his lips, "You're in a nuthouse! We're all insane in here."

Our laughter, mine a bit more timid, had drawn Artemis' attention and she came over to sit on the floor in front of us with a small grin.

"He means _he's_ insane. The rest of us are fine as wine," she stuck her tongue out towards the teen beside me and I couldn't help but grin with her, "but there was this one time when the nurse came up to give us vaccines and, I swear to God, I just about popped her tit."

Wally's eyes lit up and he almost doubled over with laughter, hitting my arm to make sure he had my attention as he gasped for air and tried to speak coherently.

"W-Wonder tits!" he gasped out before doubling back over as Artemis covered her mouth to hide her little shrieks.

I didn't get the joke, so I just sat there and smiled at them. The blonde recovered first and sat up, wiping at her cheeks before trying to explain.

"I hit the needle, right? It stabbed all the way into her damn implant and she just shucked that sucker out and jabbed me! She should have popped or deflated or something, but the chick has some serious wonder tits," she made an arc around her own chest indicating a pretty heavy duty rack and I couldn't help but grin.

Maybe it was time for me to get immunized.

"And then—you've met John, right? The guy with the jacked face?" Wally was wiping the tears from his eyes and I gave a nod, "Guy's like a robot!"

Artemis looked up at him with furrowed brows.

"You weren't here when it happened, Wally. Conner could've just been kidding," she argued, but Wally hushed her with a quick wave of his hand.

"It was like, a month maybe before I got here, but Conner didn't know about fish boy back there and thought he was drowning in the showers, so he went out to get John. On the way in, dude tripped on the water and Conner swears that he, well, _short-circuited_," his green eyes were wide with excitement and he gave a mocking seizure to imitate it.

A grin spread wider over my lips and I couldn't help but laugh in amazement.

"Dude's got practically no emotion! I mean, even his laugh is like a machine! Creepy," I scratched at my neck from the memory and Wally's eyebrows shot up in an 'I know, right?!' gesture.

"The whole staff around here's pretty weird. I mean, they're all a lot stronger than they look… and I swear, that Hal guy down in the kitchen..." Artemis looked both ways and lowered her voice with a small grin, "his ring is _alive_."

I looked to Wally for confirmation, but he was nodding to her. "It's so weird! I mean, guy's not married or anything. It's just a random ring and it… glows… like, green. It throbs, kind of like a heart, when he's cooking stuff. Scares the crap out of me."

"You still eat the food though," the blonde gave a little smirk and Wally gave a shrug.

"Dude's gotta eat."

They kept their attention on each other and started talking about the kinds of food they missed, stuff like real pizza and pie, and I took to tuning them out. My attention was on something Artemis had said a bit earlier. What had it been..?

"_You weren't here when it happened."_

And then after that, Wally saying it was a month before he had showed. How long had they all been there?

Kaldur had been there longer than Conner, who had been there longer Wally. I wasn't sure where Artemis and Megan fit in, but I knew I was the newest. From their banter, I wanted to assume Artemis showed up a bit later, meaning Wally had adjusted to asylum life.

A part of me assumed his cockiness was a cover for that brief bitterness in his tone at saying he wasn't in prison. Another part of me hit the first part with a chair for trying to chick flick my experience here. The last thing I needed to do was overanalyze this.

"When did you all get here?" I seized their silence as an opportunity, smiling apologetically for catching them off guard, "I-If you don't mind. I just…"

Wally put an arm around me with a little chuckle and shook his head, "Don't sweat it, kid. You're curious, we get that. We were all like this when we showed up, too. Ah… lemme think… Well, Kaldur was here first…. and then… ah…"

Artemis had to stop and think for a moment too, combing her hair back as if to prep it for a ponytail before letting it fall flat and getting up to her knees.

"Megsy—was it you or Conner that got here first?" she called casually, tearing the red haired girl from her little fantasy with a dazed smile.

Megan paused for a moment and frowned, looking over to Conner for confirmation before giving a short nod.

"We both got here about the same time, I think. I came out to the common room and he was just sitting down. Right?"

The ebony had to think a moment too, but he gave a nod before gently catching her hand and leading her to get to her feet.

"You're the new boy, right?" his voice was a bit deeper than I had expected, but his smile was gentle.

I gave a brief nod, scooting unconsciously closer to Wally.

"My name's Dick. I just wanted to know how long you've all been here," I shyly managed out, eyes flitting away from him for a moment to see that Kaldur was coming over as well.

Might as well get a feel for all the League now, eh?

They all sat back on the couch that Artemis had been on before, adjusting comfortably with surprisingly warm smiles.

"As you may have noticed, there is not a calendar anywhere in this place, the same for a clock. Time is beyond us," Kaldur bowed his head apologetically, interlacing his hands on his lap.

Alright. No feel for time. That's terrific.

"Tuesdays are pizza night, though, and I've been keeping track of the Tuesdays. I've been here almost thirteen pizza nights," Megan beamed proudly and I couldn't help but grin at her.

Crazy, maybe, but I had a feeling she had some brilliant potential. Or maybe that was M'Gann.

Wait. Thirteen weeks. That's… about 91 days… so about three months. She had been here three months. Kaldur had been here before them. I had no idea when the shower incident happened, but a month after, Wally showed up. It was safe to assume he had at least a month to adjust before Artemis showed up, and then my own arrival.

I looked to Kaldur, to see if he had an estimate, but he shook his head. "I did not think to keep track. I prefer it in here. The fish are kind to me."

Wally snickered at that, but it didn't make me feel any better. They had been here a long time. Who was to say how long I'd be here?

"And then… ah… let's see… Kaldur first, then our happy couple over there… Artemis showed up a bit before me," Wally frowned delicately, still thinking hard.

Artemis came first? That surprised me a bit. Maybe that's why they were so close. Or maybe Wally had always had that giant façade up. I didn't get why he was still thinking on it.

"And then me, right?" I stared at him, tensing as he shook his head.

I glanced over the others and they shook their heads as well.

"Zatanna came before you," Kaldur recalled, and Wally straightened with a little 'Oh, yeah!' expression.

It was like he had forgotten her. Wait. I hadn't met a Zatanna.

"Where is she?" I got a bit up and looked around, trying to see if I had missed someone.

Their silence wasn't very comforting. I sat back down and stared at them closely, trying to read their faces. It was like a distant dialect of Romani, a few words easily picked up, but the rest had my head throbbing again.

It was easy to tell something had happened to her, and something bad, because they looked a lot like the first responders before they had told me my parents hadn't survived the fall. Their eyes wouldn't meet mine and had the slightest of a shadow cast over them, their lips parted just a ghost as if in horror at even the thought of my reaction as they struggled to form it into words.

When Wally raised his eyes, I knew she was dead.

"A uh…" Artemis tried to begin it delicately, but she couldn't find quite the right words.

The teen to my left tried to explain, fumbling with his hands in the empty air. It was Megan who explained for me, in a voice a bit deeper that made it seem like she was actually inside of my head when she was speaking.

"Zatanna believed she didn't belong here and she couldn't remember what had happened to her. One night… she tried to escape. We all watched from the windows. A quick moving guard caught her just as she got to the trees and slipped a golden bag over her head," the girl had to stop, her voice breaking and tears hard on her eyes. "They suffocated her."

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this is so late. I had to go to the orthodontist and apparently, I've been putting my bands on wrong. Now I have a triangle on the right side and a square on the left, so in other words, I can't open my mouth. My lovely lady's making sex jokes now though, so I'm all fine as Nine, fantastic and all that. Now then, did someone order Roy?**

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Dick's POV:

God, where do I even begin on this one?

Hell.

Christ.

Dammit.

What the hell?

Why?

What the…

Hi, how you doing, kid? I can see you're shaken up about this, but don't worry, we've got you! Welcome, enjoy your stay! Oh, did we mention the last kid like you who stayed here was _murdered_? No? Well, sorry! I'm sure you'll be fine though.

Christ.

My mind was one whole key smash of a mess, thoughts overlapping until I couldn't even breathe right, staring with wide eyes down at my knees. Wally's hand was on my back and I tensed under it, feeling all of the blood drain from my face as their words echoed faster and faster through my mind.

_They suffocated her_. _They suffocated her. THEY SUFFOCATED HER. THEY suffocated her. THEY SUFFOCATED her. They SUFFOCATED her. Theysuffocatedher. _

There was a _bag _held over her _head _until all of the _breath _left her _lungs _and she _suffocated_.

I can't begin to tell you how much that scared me. That was a human being, full of potential and life, and they took it all away from her just because she tried to leave.

"Hey, buddy, deep breaths," Wally had leaned down a bit so his eyes were level with mine and he had taken to rubbing my back comfortingly, neck craning as he tried to catch my gaze.

Zatanna could've used those deep breaths. Maybe she could've fought back and escaped. Lasted just a bit longer and lived out a normal life.

"Great going, Megan. You traumatized him," Artemis scolded the red-haired girl disapprovingly, trying to catch my eyes as well, "Don't look so scared… It was dark out. They may have just sedated her and moved her to a lower ward. Look, we really don't know…"

They knew. I had seen it on their faces. The fear. The trauma. The pain. And guilt. Remorse so deep it looked as natural as the creases in their lips or the lashes on their eyes. Why had they looked so guilty? Had they helped? Had _they _killed her? What if they were all insane? I could be next. They would kill me for trying to escape and some other poor kid would replace me. They were all murderers. That's what they were all here for. Blood was on their hands. Lying murderers.

I was next.

I had to get out of here. I had to run. Had to go fast. Like Sonic. Turn blue and turn tail.

"Up and at 'em, schizos. Lunchtime," a new voice had me raising my head cautiously, looking the man in the entryway up and down.

He had auburn hair, a bit like Wally's, only his bangs were spiked up and he wore a loose-fitting blue outfit. I thought, maybe for a second, that he too was a patient until I saw that he had a nametag on. It was too far off to read.

Wally gave a whoop of joy, pumping his fists in the air.

"Food, food, gotta fill my tummy! Food, food, hope it's really yummy! Food, food-," he started to sing, hips swaying as he got up and began dancing, silenced by an apparent glare from the new guy.

"Knock it, West. The anorexic kid in the BB Ward is sobbing about finding that damn beetle he's always going on about again and Raquel's off today," he sounded a bit annoyed before I caught his eyes on me, "What's the newbie so worked up about? You guys telling ghost stories again? Don't listen to them, short stuff. The most 'supernatural' thing we have here is the pudding down in the cafeteria."

I couldn't help but crack a smile at that, taking a few breaths to try and catch my breath again. My stomach was still twisting in time with the key smash in my head, but I could freak out about all that later when I had more time to ask about happened. Maybe they were joking with me again. Or maybe they weren't, and I could learn from the poor girl's mistakes.

"You're such a killjoy," the teen beside me pouted before gesturing me to follow behind him with a small smile, "Dick, meet Roy. He's our personal escort to meals, to make sure we don't kill each other on the way. Roy, meet Dick. He's our new orphan boy, real sweet kid."

I looked up to Roy's eyes and matched his smile before sticking close to Wally. A murderer maybe, but Wally was nice, so I figured I'd enjoy it while he wasn't suffocating me with a golden bag.

Along the way, the others calmed me down by taking my mind off of the murder with talk of the food usually available. I was warned about the chicken—"stuff comes in moldy containers"—and told to avoid the snicker doodle cookies if I liked my "rich boy teeth" the way they were.

"I was never a rich boy," I assured Artemis, catching her off-guard, "Seriously. How much do you think circus performers get paid?"

She hadn't been sure, but she made it clear that I looked like a millionaire's kid. If you ignored the bad root job, that is.

Lucky for me, Megan was pretty good with hair dye, if I could get my hands on some.

Even luckier, Roy promised that he'd try and smuggle me in some black dye next time the shipment came in and needed to be signed.

"If you're stuck with the crazies for a while, you don't want to end up looking like them," he grinned at me, earning a protestant cry from Wally who was informed that yes, Roy was directly referencing the mess that was his face.

When the League wasn't all grim and sinister, I had to admit that I kind of liked them. They were almost like the people I'd befriend at school, or hang out with in gym when we have to play kickball for the fiftieth time in a row.

The cafeteria didn't look half bad, to be honest. The tables were like the ones at Hogwarts, I guess. Don't judge. I'm sorting through key-smash remnants here. They're the long ones that stretch on for a while with the benches attached—coolest things ever. A personal favorite of mine, not going to lie. Just seeing them cheered me up a bit more and I had forgotten about the death and darkness.

I wasn't hungry, so running down the food line was more grabbing what Wally pointed to excitedly and smiling awkwardly at the chefs. I saw the Hal guy they had been talking about with the pulsing green ring. It freaked me out.

When we got to the table, I sat beside Megan and Wally. Conner was to Megan's left, leaving Kaldur and Artemis to sit across from us. Following Artemis' lead, I gave Wally the food I didn't want. In basics, everything except for the apple. I kept that one just to play with though, batting it back and forth across the table top like a game of Pong.

The conversation was casual at first, about how the food tasted like it had been cut out of a magazine and how they needed to get some new movies for the TV in the common area, so I tuned them out a bit and set to thinking. I was trying so hard to remember anything that would tell me what I was missing in the past few months.

I tuned back in at a little nudge from Wally, just a bit after Roy left.

"He's gone. Want to know a bit more about Zatanna?" he asked quietly, stuffing what was supposed to be meatloaf into his mouth as if he were part hamster.

Say no.

Shake your head.

Deny it politely.

"Please."

Dammit, Grayson. One job.

"She wasn't crazy," the redhead began, swallowing hard, "just an average kid with a normal past. No mom, but her dad was always there for her. The two had some kind of… well, like your circus thing, they were magicians. Next thing she knew, she was in here without any clue to where her dad was. Said she thought she had amnesia and asked us to help her escape."

I bit at the apple just to bite it, half tempted to actually spit the fruit back out onto my tray. Chewing helped relax me a bit, weird as it sounds.

"So she planned it. She would slip out one night through the woods. We all agreed to help her because it was obvious there was nothing wrong with her… so we… we all caused a distraction."

Wally took a long drink of his apple juice and resumed stuffing his face, so I turned to the others to fill me in on what his silence didn't. Megan was first.

"Zatanna hid in the janitor's closet after lights out. After Wally's signal, I went to her room and set the door on fire with some stuff we stole from the kitchen," she admitted with a reluctant little smile, twiddling her fingers anxiously just below the table, "The alarm went off and the guards came for me. I started screaming that M'Gann was inside and I had to kill her once and for all."

I couldn't help but blink in surprise. That wasn't half a bad idea. She knew that the guards would know of her reason for being there, so they would believe that. Like I said, brilliant girl right there.

Kaldur spoke next, voice surprisingly mellow for the regret nestled against his features.

"While Megan had the fire going, I ran out of my room with the sink running and began screaming that my brother had fallen down the drain and was now trapped in the pipes beneath the sink. I had even unscrewed one of the pipes so water would shoot out, ensuring that a few more guards would be called upon to assist me and to put out the fire," he took a bite of his pasta and I saw the hint of a smile on his lips.

I was proud of him as well. He must've known that people would make fun of him for considering himself part fish, so it would've been easy to believe that he had stolen a 'family member' from the fish tank and lost him down the sink. For schizos, these guys seemed like the stuff of movies.

The second Conner lifted his head, I expected a monkey story, and without a doubt, received one.

"When I heard Kaldur, I began beating on my door and insisting I heard a monkey in my room," he shrugged, as if he did it a lot, "and I made it clear that if they didn't get me a new room, I was tearing mine to the ground."

One look at him, and I was sure that if anyone could, _he _would be the one to actually tear his room to the ground. He looked buff enough that bricks would probably just part after he glared at them. I definitely wasn't comfortable being this close to him, especially with the deadpan look on his face.

Artemis looked over at me next and I expected something big from her about how she distracted them, but her story managed to make me grin in pure awe.

"While they distracted the guards, I helped run Zatanna down the hallways and shot spitballs at the cameras to block them all out. The camera men only saw white."

She beamed with pure pride, and I couldn't put it past her. Something bugged me about it though.

"If it all went so perfect, how'd they catch her?" I asked into my apple, setting it down after the second bite.

I didn't like apples. They looked better than they tasted. It wasn't that I liked doctors—I was fine keeping them away, but apples are gross to me. I couldn't eat one a day if my life depended on it. If I didn't eat it one day though, the doctors would come and save my life though, so maybe that's a good scenario for me.

Only I could over think a stupid children's saying.

The shrug I got was near unanimous.

"We couldn't explain anything that happens here to you if we tried," Wally admitted, pushing his empty tray away, "This is a weird place."

It was just in time, it seemed, as Roy came wandering back and hitched a thumb towards the door.

"Come on, cow folk, I'm rounding you up. Back to the ranch. All of you," he gave a little smile, mocking the tip of a cowboy hat.

Wally gave the most sarcastic 'moo' I had ever heard before we were all following him back to the common room.

A weird place indeed.

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	6. Chapter 6

**The support really makes my day, I promise. Every review so far has made me pause and grin happily to myself. I apologize for not updating last night—I went to go see The Little Mermaid at Starlight. If you get the option to see it, please do. They had the song "She's in Love" and I swear, my heart sang with all the mersisters and Flounder.**

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Dick's POV: 

Roy walked us as far as the common room before claiming he had to attend to some 'knightly duties', making sure we all made it as far as the carpet before starting back down the hall towards the cafeteria.

According to Kaldur, there were several lunch shifts to ensure there weren't a lot of people in the cafeteria at one point. The stimulation was a trigger to some of the patients, and the guards didn't like having to soothe someone out of a breakdown. It had been like that since he had showed up, so he hadn't seen anything to cause it.

It was a shame. A full lunchroom, busy and buzzing, would be a fantastic distraction for if I ever decided to try and escape. Suffocating still wasn't very high on my list of priorities, but the idea was there if I ever got courageous.

Megan and Conner returned to the back by the windows, Kaldur to his fish tank, Wally to the floor and Artemis and I to our respective couches.

It wasn't really my couch. It was far too soon to consider it that.

Comfy though.

I was patient, bringing my feet up beside me after a while, and began to simply observe.

There was a certain attraction between Megan and Conner, but neither seemed to be at terms with it and it put an ache in my heart. They could easily make each other happy.

Or turn themselves into even scarier psychopaths.

At least they'd be happy psychopaths.

Kaldur's attention seemed to be more on the _water _than the actual fish, his eyes tracing out little ripples and waves left from a quick swimming fish. As he stared, it became apparent to me that he looked _homesick _as he watched the water. There had been water at his home; I remembered that bit of the story. All he seemed to need was a pool to take a dip in.

I wondered if they had one. Probably not, drowning risk. Good idea though.

Not the drowning. The pool. Although Clark deserved to be held under a bit for giving me false hope.

Artemis wasn't even trying and every lazy flick of the rubber band had a paper bit bouncing off of the paper target's center. Her aim was mind-blowing, and she seemed disappointed at it. Maybe it was because she had wanted to be the one to sink the arrow through her father's skull?

Stop that, Grayson. Wally never said where he was hit. Or if it even was an arrow. Now you're just imagining sadistic things and… maybe I do belong here. Maybe I'd start taking those pills.

Not a chance.

And then, there was Wally, who after barely a minute had me wanting to kick the remote out of his hand. He had some movie in that I didn't recognize with cowboys, fast forwarding one moment and suddenly pausing it, cracking up at the paused expression every once in a while.

"You ever actually thought of _watching _the movie?" I asked, pushing my hair back off my forehead with the slightest of a glare.

The redhead turned around and held my eyes, letting the movie play behind his back and moving his mouth in exact time to the actor's words. Even the stutters and pauses for breath were included, the occasional head tilt and a few blinks managing to fall in sync. He paused it again after a while, his point having been proven, ejecting the disc when he turned around again.

"There are fifty movies in here, and I can quote them all by heart," he sighed, handing me a black binder once he had slid the cowboy movie into a slot, coming to sit up by me.

I curiously thumbed through the pages, four discs on each one, the title written in a lazy scrawl of a sharpie. One in every six sounded familiar to me, but I had only seen about three, each one being a Disney movie.

"Why would they have Disney?" I shut the binder and zipped it back up with a little glare at the leather, "A lot of their movies have triggers, especially for kids shut up in nut houses."

Wally shrugged and took the binder back, stuffing it back under the TV with a bored smile.

"That's what I'm hoping. This place gets _really _boring after a while. Some kid having a break down would be the most fun I've ever had in here," he admitted, scratching at the back of his neck, "You got a trigger I can exploit?"

I gave a laugh, putting my feet back down on the carpet delicately.

"Ah, Lion King gets me pretty bad, but I'm pretty sure everyone balls their eyes out when Mufasa dies. I think we were all born with it in our DNA or something."

It was obvious. The Lion King had been a way to keep the masses calm and crying, spun up by the Gods long before any of us were born. It was carved into the stone tablets and told to the birds, kept a secret of nature until one little shit came singing to the Disney writers and that heartache was drawn out. There was never any doubt.

The teen tilted his head a moment, as if he couldn't figure out why the Lion King would be a trigger for me, before it hit him and he gave an apologetic smile.

"Because of the Haley's Circus thing. Guess you're lucky we don't have it."

Now it was my turn to tilt my head.

"How did you know it was Haley's Circus?" I stared at him hard.

I _knew _I hadn't mentioned that detail to anyone. Not him, not Bruce, not the countless string of therapists that the courts required I speak to for a while after my parents died. I never named the circus, just because I wanted to forget it. There was no way he had figured that out.

"You…" his eyebrows furrowed, as if he thought I was messing with him, "You told me. I remember."

I shook my head, "I always just said it was a circus."

He gave a nervous laugh, still convinced that I was messing with him, but he seemed to get it when my confusion didn't lighten.

"No, no… I remember… it was… it was you and me… and we were… we were outside…"

Now Wally was as confused as I was, and that was saying a lot. I had never seen him before today, and I had never told him anything more than I had with all the others around. Seeing that those who went outside seemed to be murdered, that couldn't ever have happened.

"Hm," he rubbed at his temple, eye twitching with what looked like a headache, "It's so weird… I swear… it was… you and me, and we were outside… on a… on a hill. No, no—mountain. It was… you had something to tell me… At first, I thought you were like, coming out of the closet or something… but then you… you told me your name… and your back story…"

He let out a frustrated exhale and my head gave a scream of protest, temples burning hard enough that I was sure some third degree burns would be transferring pretty quickly. Before he could remember anything more, two nurses came in wearing outfits looking a lot like Roy's had, medical masks pulled up over their lips.

"Come along, Mr. West. You must've forgotten to take your pills this morning," one tsked lightly and he nodded, as if to say that must be what the problem was.

I watched quietly as they escorted him out, head still aflame until I laid back down on the couch and buried my head in the pillows.

"What was that?" I asked into the fabric before turning my eyes to Artemis.

It took her a moment to realize I had been talking to her. She lowered her hand, gaze flitting from me to the hallway where they had taken Wally.

"Happens sometimes. A kid'll forget who he is and start saying he's some kind of hero or his past is something else. That's why we take the pills. They keep us sane," she did her best to explain.

That wasn't a symptom of insanity, though. I had seen how sure Wally had looked. He had known about the circus. A case of the crazies didn't tell you someone's past.

I was more suspicious of this place now than I had ever been, and it was still the first day.

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**-F.J. III**


	7. Chapter 7

**Ha, yes! It's not an AU, as to my reasoning for not including that in the description! It is real life! Now comes your time to do the deductions. What happened? Why have they all forgotten their hero pasts? I know, but do you? I love hearing your theories! They churn my butter, so to say. Please keep your reviews coming, they make me all teary eyed. If you have any requests of something to feature, please ask! Don't be shy! I'm actually very civil and kind. Just don't ask my friends.**

**Sorry that this chapter kinda sucks. The words weren't coming to me today. **

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Dick's POV:

It may have taken two movies under Artemis' persuasion, another amazing gift of hers, but I finally came to call that couch mine. The arm seemed to be built specifically for the bend in my neck and once I had stretched out fully, feet still a good foot from the other arm, I swore I had found an incarnation of Jesus himself beneath me.

Not that I'm saying being on top of Jesus would be comfy.

It may have been, though, don't get me wrong. People were a big bigger then, weight wise at least, and his stomach could've been greater than any Tempur-Pedic out there.

I'm sure being beneath him wouldn't be that bad either, depending on your religion. One might have you feeling holy and renewed, which has to be pretty comfortable. The other would have it as plain air, which in itself isn't terrible as long as the surface beneath you is comfortable, but I guess in that situation, it's the ground that would be comfy and not Jesus.

The first movie I only paid half attention to, my mind caught up in what Wally had said. I honestly didn't recognize him when I was brought here, that bit was for sure. He had reminded me of Peter Pan and had looked nice enough, but nothing about him had rang any bells. Unless we had met at the orphanage a long time ago. Maybe he had attended one of the shows. From the sounds of it, he had had family though, so the orphanage idea was scratched. There hadn't been a mention of siblings, so I doubted there was an adoption involved. He hadn't mentioned parents either, though.

I'd have to find a way to ask later without coming off creepy.

The second one caught and held my full interest until it ended, the biggest grin I had ever felt stretched over my lips. I hadn't remembered ever laughing that hard. It was about a serial killer tire with telepathic abilities. _Rubber_, I think? It was the dumb kind of funny, enough to the point I wanted Wally to come back and watch it with me. I wondered the whole time if he could imitate the tire noises. This was the only thing I wanted him quoting from now on.

I had already figured that Artemis wouldn't be able to quote the movies as accurately as him, with his pausing and fast forwarding, but I always caught her smirking expectantly at me before a funny scene.

A bit after the tire movie, just as I was about to pull another disc from the binder, I heard footsteps and looked up to see Wally sauntering back into the room towards us.

I couldn't help but stare, throat catching as I immediately noticed something was off.

It was like going to the zoo and seeing the gorilla wrap its fingers around the slats in the cage. As you watch, you know that it's a hand that's curled around the metal, complete with the bends in the fingers and the crooked thumb a bit farther down, but it's not the kind of hand you're used to seeing.

In that same sense, the body walking itself into the room with the reddish brown hair and the spread of freckles couldn't have been anyone else, but the empty haunted look settling over his features wasn't Wally.

The nurses must have stuffed him like a turkey with Ritalin.

Instead of coming in to sit down, the redhead stilled calmly beside the arm of my couch where my feet had gone, fingers tracing it in subtle amusement.

"Hey," I smiled up at him, shutting the binder and trying to see where his eyes were staring.

It seemed to be just dead space, though, confirming my suspicions of the medicine having kicked in. Or maybe this was a sedative. Poor kid looked like a three year old who woke up hungry in the middle of the night, standing there shyly because he can't get up on the bed to ask his parents for help.

That doesn't mean I was calling him adorable.

Or pathetic for that matter.

In response, he gave me a little hum and continued to idly feel the couch arm with slow curls of his fingers. I shot a glance to Artemis for support and caught her staring as well with a surprisingly warm smile. There went my answers. Alright.

I got to my feet, hating how my height didn't help me to catch his attention, having to gently touch his shoulder and waiting out the delayed flinch to catch his dazed emerald eyes.

"You want to sit down?" I offered, mentally cursing myself for talking to him like a baby.

It was even worse when he gave a blank little nod and looked expectantly down at me with a sort of innocence in his gaze. After a bit, I realized he wanted me to lead him. A laugh left my lips and holding him by the shoulder, I helped him around the bend in the couch and sat him down at the arm.

"Thank you," his voice was soft, attention immediately going back to nothing.

Okay, maybe he was a little adorable, but in the friendly sort of no-homo way. It was like he was still giggly from the stuff they give you at the dentist's office, but they had overdosed it.

Looks like I couldn't try and get more out of him for his earlier comments yet. That didn't mean I'd let it go by any means. I'd just have to ask him later.

"What all is he on?" I looked over at Artemis, abandoning the binder and reclaiming my spot on the couch, hesitant before gently resting my feet against Wally's thigh.

To be honest, I'm not sure that he even felt it.

The blonde on the couch looked over at me before giving a small shrug.

"They've taken me in there once or twice, but I couldn't tell you. The nurses get a pill down your throat, a shot to your arm and then… it's all a haze," she sat up against the arm and lazily beckoned for Megan to come behind her, "I always guessed that they take you to a quiet room until you're sane again."

I stared at Wally calmly, poking his leg and noting how it took him a good ten seconds to look my way with a half risen eyebrow. Yeah. Completely sane. The dude wasn't in his own head.

I looked back to Artemis to point that out, but she had her eyes closed in content as Megan calmly combed her nimble fingers through the lengthy golden locks, working on pulling them back into a ponytail.

The quick change in the blonde's attitude was about the equivalent of a slap to the face, but more of a surprising one than one that actually hurt. She looked so… tamed.

Not that Megan had some kind of dominant power or anything.

I mean, I bet that girl could really be domineering if she needed to—

Wally gently hit my calf and snapped my mind from the gutter that it was slowly rolling into—what can I say? Insanity's getting to me—and I looked back to him with a warm smile.

He wasn't smiling. A lazy hand gestured to an end table back by the windows and he gave what could only be a helpless expression. It was easy to tell what he wanted.

"Yeah, come on," I put my feet down and got up, offering him a hand.

His first grab for it was a complete miss, so I gave a soft sigh and caught his wrist instead, hauling him to his feet. It was easy to guess he was faking this little… whatever he wanted to call it, but I couldn't figure out why. There had to be a reason, dumb as it may be, so I just went with it and walked with him over to the chairs where he collapsed and sat with a still expression for a while before he looked at the end table.

"Something in here you want?" I guessed and he gave a slow nod, hands stuffing down into his pockets.

That should've been a lot harder for him then it was. I was careful in opening the drawer, half-expecting a fake snake to pop out at me. All I saw were papers and markers.

He wanted to color.

Dammit.

I sighed.

"You want lined or blank paper?"

I was already there, so I might as well. Maybe I could use it against him and get him to do something for me in the future. No idea what yet, but I'd hang on to that thought.

He raised his hand slowly and I noticed it was in a limp fist, staring at it in confusion until he dropped a folded note into the drawer, a finger lazily pointing.

I looked up at him in alarm, but he just widened his eyes and lifted his eyebrows for a moment. Every movie I'd ever seen of a bank robbery was flashing through my head, only now, he was trying to get through discretely to the cops. All I could do was nod, handing him a piece of blank paper and bringing the note up with a handful of markers.

When I set the markers down, I noticed a quick scrawl on the outside of the note.

**Wait 'til tonight to read. –KF**

Discrete as I could, I slipped it into the hem of my sweatpants and gave him a slight nod, getting to my feet. The note cut into my skin a little, but I couldn't feel it over the panic spreading through me.

"I'm going to go back and watch a movie," I smiled at him, learning from a single flicker of his eyes that there were cameras.

Wally returned the nod with a relieved smile and held up the almost drunken movements as he took to coloring and I headed back for the couch with my heart in my throat.

As to why he'd signed it KF was beyond me, but it was clear he hadn't wanted the guards knowing I had it. Maybe it had something to do with what happened earlier. All I could do was hope, holding my breath and waiting on the couch until Roy came into the hall and asked us all to follow him to dinner.

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**-F.J. III**


	8. Chapter 8

**I was going to start this author's note thanking you for all your theories and other authorly stuff, but not this time. This one is dedicated to Ally Marton for being such a fantastic human being, earning all of my love and bringing me to happy tears. Thank you, darling, ever so much.**

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Dick's POV:

My first dinner at the asylum couldn't have possibly have been any more awkward, but it wasn't like I was meeting some chick's parents for the first time. The chefs couldn't care less that I was fidgety—probably because they were used to worse cases rolling through all the time.

There were two new chefs behind the glass this time, I couldn't help but notice.

One was a Vietnamese girl looking about twenty with a Cheshire cat shirt from Alice in Wonderland—I remembered telling her that I liked it. Artemis had told me later that she had reminded her a lot of her own big sister, just, you know, _alive_.

The other was a man, maybe in his forties, with intricate wings tattooed down the backs of his arms. I almost missed them when I went to grab my tray, catching a glimpse when I looked at his nametag. Katar. I liked it.

Food tonight was what was supposed to be spaghetti, I assumed, and garlic bread that looked as if it'd serve better for a weapon. I mentioned that bit to Artemis as I followed behind her and teasingly hit her shoulder with it, drawing a chuckle from her lips. When I took a seat across from her, we had a mock sword fight up until Megan took a seat beside her and their conversation spun off from there.

Apparently, there was a new boy down in the BB Ward, and a real cutie from what Megan had been told.

"I think he might have been friends with that bat chick—he had the same thing on his shirt that she did, and he was refusing to leave it up front. Kinda hoping he gets transferred up here with us," she lightly pulled on Artemis' ponytail for her attention and winked at her with a sly little smile.

I poked at the spaghetti, wincing at how my fork seemed to bounce off it more than it wanted to stab into it.

"A transfer?" I gave up on it and went for the meatballs, awkwardly poking at them now, "What's up with the different wards anyway?"

Conner did his best to help Wally to the table, giving up on him when I caught sight of them, nodding him on and making sure the redhead was stable up until he sat beside me. At even the sight, the note in my waistband cut deeper into my stomach and I tried not to wince. There went my appetite. I was a bit more than worried now.

"B Ward is what I'm guessing they call the more stable ward. BB is packed full of kids, all off their rockers," Artemis did her best to explain with a little shrug, "They're all mostly younger, too. There's a little kid, maybe ten, down there who's always acting like animals. He's pretty good, actually."

"Gar?" Megan smiled wide at even the mention, eyes twinkling, "He does the best monkey impression! It drives Conner _crazy_!"

The ebony gave an affirming grunt and I couldn't help but laugh. I'd have to meet this kid. The fact that he could be _ten _caught me off guard, though. Some of these guys were eighteen. Why was the age grouping so skewed here? Better yet, why was it co-ed? Nothing about this place really seemed to make sense.

After that, I just went quiet, losing myself in thought.

Wally had been taken away by the nurses, and it had been kind of weird, now that I thought of it. He hadn't been freaking out, so if they had been watching on camera, they wouldn't have seen any reason to come get him. That meant they had been listening. The more I thought on it, the more it scared me.

By the time dinner was over, the redhead to my left had taken my food and had eaten all that I had left, making my tray easier to dispose of. The walk down the hall, escorted by Roy, was the only goodbye we were allowed to have. Two minutes was enough for my trembling fingers. The others wished me a goodnight, giving me advice on the comfiest way to sleep on the mattress.

Artemis advised setting the pillow under my stomach if I slept on my side and just using my arm as a pillow.

Megan said she liked to bunch the blankets up and use them like a pillow seeing that the room was hot enough as it was.

Kaldur recommended I sleep on my stomach with my face to the wall, saying that the mattress wasn't actually that bad.

I think Conner's advice was my favorite though. With a stone expression, he told me the comfiest way to sleep on the mattress was to _not_ sleep on the mattress.

I looked over to Wally just before the others branched off into their rooms and he gave me an out of character hug, finger poking at the note by my hip for emphasis with a small smile.

"Goodnight, buddy," he winked at me.

I was 90% positive Roy thought we were bedroom buddies, or however you say that, from the way he waggled his eyebrows at us just before I turned my back. Just how I wanted to start my reputation. Terrific.

When I got into the room, I waited until the door shut behind me before going over to the bed. I mixed all of their advice.

I bunched up the blankets by the head and set the pillow under my stomach, laying down on it delicately and facing the wall. I lay like that, unmoving except for a few slow breaths, mostly because I wasn't sure if the guards would come in to check if I was asleep or not.

After a while, I snatched Zitka from my feet and lay her by my arms, the perfect cover for when I slipped the note out of my pocket. I had to squint to read it in the darkness, unfolding the paper carefully until I could make out the messy scrawl against the lines.

**I know three things about you, kid. **

**1. Your middle name is John. **

**2. You can land a triplesault first time every time. **

**3. You need to ask Bruce who the kid with the scratched out face is in all of his photographs.**

**Don't stop until you get a name from him. **

I promptly took Conner's advice, only after stuffing the note into the bed sheet below me.

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**-F.J. III**


	9. Chapter 9

**STOP HOLD UP HALT WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING RIGHT NOW. The shipping name for Pepper Potts and Tony Stark is PEPPERONI. THEY SAW THE OPPORTUNITY AND THEY TOOK IT. I love you all. Thank you. That will be all.**

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Dick's POV:

I don't remember ever actually overcoming the churning of my stomach and getting to sleep. One moment I was hugging Zitka and staring blankly at the wall, trying to decipher what the note could've possibly meant, and the next I was sitting up on the mattress swallowing down a distinct plastic taste.

The second the door shut, it seemed to connect me with my thoughts and realized what I had just done, rushing over to the sink.

There was always a chance that the pills were actually harmless and I was just paranoid, but there wasn't any piece of me that was going to sit there and let me take that chance.

It took a few attempts, my finger pressing down my throat until my shoulders racked out a gag with me, but the fourth try had me gripping the edge of the sink as I puked out what I could. It left a stinging path from the bottom of my stomach to where it hit the porcelain beneath me, welling my eyes with tears.

I really hated puking. Let that be known. The taste it left, the ache and hollow that resonates after, the sight of it and most definitely its smell. Just leaning over it like this was enough to make me gag again, closing my eyes and trying my best to not smell it.

I turned my eyes over at the sound of the door, catching sight of Clark before glancing back to the sink with intent to try and wash what I could from my face before he took me down to Bruce's office. Instead, I looked down to the mess in the sink and added to it from my disgust.

"W-Woah, kid!" I heard his voice behind me, a hand touching to my shoulder gingerly in what I assumed to be a gesture of comfort. "You need to go to the nurse?"

At even the mention, all I could see was Wally standing by the couch arm with the little sway to his posture and the slur to his features. I could be _dying _and I'd probably still say no to the nurses.

"M'good," I managed out, getting a hand full of water and drinking from it, swishing it around before spitting it into the mess.

I followed Clark down the hall, feeling how unsure he was just from the way he kept looking back at me. He'd be taking me to the nurse if I couldn't make up an excuse that didn't involve me skipping out on taking the pills.

"Bad dream," was the best I could come up with, nose cringing with the taste that still lingered.

I'd have to see if Bruce had some water or something that I could use because my pathetic little handful hadn't helped.

"Didn't know you could puke from a dream," I got in return, just offering him a shrug in response.

He wanted an answer and I made one up. If he didn't like it, he could go ask one of the others.

"Probably helps that you had your parents tucking you in before bed most of your life."

"Adopted," Clark admitted, catching me a bit off-guard.

I looked over at him, a single glance over his frame before giving a little apologetic shrug.

"I was a baby though, so you're right. They tucked me in nice and tight," he rapped his knuckles against Bruce's door, "Sorry, kid."

He stepped back when the door opened and gave me a nod goodbye, gesturing me to get in, so I did. Once I stepped inside, I was met with Bruce's concerned stare. It wasn't a good look on him.

"What happened?" he looked me over before going to his desk and taking a tissue from its box.

I stared back at him, taking a feeble step back as he walked back towards me, tensing roughly as his hand gently caught the underside of his jaw. I'm not sure what I expected him to do, maybe hit me or something, but I'd be lying if I said he didn't surprise me.

"You're a mess, Dick," he tutted, running the tissue's edge against my cheek and gingerly dabbing back what I had to assume was the puke that hadn't wanted to leave me be.

Although I was sure he did this to all of the other patients, I couldn't help but crack a smile at how paternal he seemed to be. That wasn't half a bad look on him. I couldn't really see him settling with a wife, but the three boys with him in his pictures all seemed pretty happy… which reminded me.

"My first night here… just a little jittery," I lied to him, holding still so he could finish, "Nothing to worry about."

He gave a contradicting grunt before leaning up and crossing over to a small trashcan by the corner and throwing the tissue away.

"Why don't you get yourself some water before we start?" he suggested, gesturing to a water cooler against the back wall.

I smiled gratefully and walked for it as he walked to his desk, filling a little disposal cup with water and swishing with it. I gagged again almost instantly. That wasn't water. Water was flavorless and light. Whatever this was tasted like metal and felt a bit too thick on my tongue. I spit it back into the cup and tossed it into the trashcan with the tissue with a little cough. I wasn't going to be paranoid. Not any more than I needed to be.

The note's content still fresh in mind, I asked him if I could look around his office instead of sitting down this time. I obviously surprised him, but he gave a little nod.

"I don't see why not," he invited and I crossed over beside a plant, looking close at a framed photo of him and his family.

He was standing in the back, the shortest of the boys with his arms around his broad chest. The short boy's face was scratched out gingerly, but I still drew a few details from it. There was a taller one just under Bruce's arm with his face cut out entirely, and in _his _arms was a boy with a skunk stripe in his hair and an annoyed expression over his face. I couldn't help but think that I recognized him.

"So, you're a father?" I decided to see how far I could get on my own investigation, staring at the teen with his entire face gone.

Bruce gave a little chuckle, "Not technically, but they'd argue with me. I adopted them when they were little from some pretty bad pasts."

No wonder he was so paternal.

I moved down to another photo of just the boys, noticing how there were two faces that were cut out this time. I wondered what would lead Bruce to take their faces out if he seemed to love them so much.

"Good kids?" I guessed, looking from the picture to him with a small smile.

There had to be a good way to bring up the names of these kids, or to at least find out why Wally had wanted me to investigate this.

"They're all pretty good at heart, but my middle boy, Jason… ah…" Bruce paused and I could feel his sheepish grin, "He means well. A bit of a troublemaker… not that his brothers are any better."

I must've known hundreds of Jason's, so my déjà vu definitely wasn't needed. I didn't know any of these kids.

"What do you do with the kids when you're working here? I mean, no wife," I moved on down the wall.

There was a bulletin board with pictures tacked to it, and I couldn't help but notice that the shortest kid's face wasn't cut out in two of them. He was a really cute kid, not too far behind me if I had to guess his age, with the sweetest smile.

As I kept looking, I noticed one with four ebonies and not a single mark over it. It was a little blurry, but I was sure if I got a good look at it, I could make them all out pretty easily.

Bruce was oddly quiet, and I looked back to see him with a dark expression over his features. That's not what I wanted to see. At the same time though, it was just what I needed. I quickly unpinned the unmarked picture and slipped it into my waistband, letting the pin quietly drop to the carpet unnoticed.

"Something happen to them?" I guessed, taking a slow breath and hoping my guilt didn't show in my expression.

The man's eyebrows knit tighter.

"Weirdest thing… but… I can't… remember…" he rubbed at his temples in frustration.

It was the same expression I had seen on Wally's face when he had suggested that we had met somewhere else before. I needed to work fast.

"Let me help," I offered, taking advantage of the seat in front of his desk and struggling to meet his gaze, "Just start small. Their names?"

Bruce was shaking his head now, fingers working against hairline delicately.

"It's the… I… Why don't I remember?" he frowned harder, "There's… Jason… and… Tim's the youngest… he… he's… and… the oldest… the oldest boy… he was… an…"

He stopped himself there, opening a drawer behind his desk and pulling out a small pill bottle. Two went to his lips, followed down by a swig from his water bottle. I saw the change ripple through his face almost instantly. My heart sank.

"Sorry about that," he gave an apologetic smile before replacing what he could into the drawer, "A uh… Where were we? You and the other patients, right?"

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**-F.J. III**


	10. Chapter 10

**Taylor Swift concert tonight, and easy to say, I'm actually quite excited. I'll get to bond with my step-family, sure, but I actually don't mind Miss Swift. I mean, her songs are all basically the same thing, but she's got a nice voice and she doesn't sound half bad live. This could mean that I'll come home stuffed full of ideas for fluffy Birdflash fanfics. I hope so. I'm wanting 300 fics by Christmas, and I'm barely at 224. Doomed? Very much so. It's a nice dream though.**

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Dick's POV:

For the longest time, I just sat there and stared in horror at Bruce as he rattled off what I had to assume were standard questions about my stay here. My relationship with the other patients, what I thought of the food, requests I had to improve the place and how I had slept. They were cool, it was terrible, get me out and I hadn't.

Every pause he had taken, I had thrown my own questions back at him, but he bat them away as easily as I had. It was as if he had just deleted his family straight from his memory from the way he stared at me at even the mention.

"You have three sons! They're in the pictures all over the wall! How do you just _forget _them?" I tried to keep from just screaming in frustration, but that was a hard enough mission in itself.

Bruce just politely smiled at me, looking up to the door to call for Clark to come get me out of there before he caught my crazy. I didn't want that to happen. Not yet.

"No, please! Please. Just… just tell me something. Where are they?" I pleaded, more than tempted to grab for his desk and shake it until the words got through.

It was weird, caring for three boys I didn't even know, but it was obvious that Bruce wasn't caring for them. Someone had to do it. One orphan to three others.

The man looked at me, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features before he saw that I wouldn't come off of it and gave a fleeting sigh.

"If I tell you, you'll drop it?" he gave his own version of a plea and I was quick to nod my head. "Jason… the middle one… he died in an explosion. My other two boys were kidnapped a few months ago."

I grew quiet, trying to inwardly curl in on myself. Maybe it wasn't tainted water and magic pills that had made him forget. That could've just been alcohol and a few Tylenol to help drown them out instead. I wouldn't want to live with that kind of guilt on my mind either.

"It's not your fault, you know. The other two could easily still be alive and working on how to get home," I tried to assure him, gingerly getting up and touching a tentative hand to his shoulder. "Nobody's perfect, but we all try, eh? Sorry for pushing it."

Bruce actually seemed to calm a bit and I pulled back with as warm of a smile as I could muster up on short notice, walking to the door and grasping the handle delicately.

"I'll see myself out to the common room. And as for improvements—get Wally some new movies. Poor guy can quote all the movies in the binder breath for breath."

I tried my best to walk fast enough that Clark wouldn't be able to walk with me, but that man's some kind of super. If I didn't know better, I would've said he had flown right up behind me.

"You in some kind of hurry, kid?" he teased, matching my pace until I just sighed and took to walking a regular speed.

I gave him the most sarcastic smile I had in my possession.

"Golly gee, you bet! I just found out they have markers!" I gave a little fist pump to the air, "Think if I draw a good enough picture, they'll stick it on the fridge?"

The man rolled his eyes at me and I felt a real smirk cross my lips, holding it up until we got to the common room.

"Draw me something nice and pretty, Dick," he gave me a little glare, and I swear in that second, he had honestly forgotten that Dick was my name and not just an insult.

He glared at me up until my feet hit the carpet, retreating back down the hall right after. If I ever wanted to escape, now would be a better time. The only guard I had seen was Clark, and if I could learn the off-days for his schedule, chances are they'd put a lighter guard that I could take out pretty easily. I'd need to learn the layout of this place as well, maybe study the map in Bruce's office, but it could be done. Maybe I'd even find his sons. The living ones, that is. Zatanna had probably found Jackson or Jason or whoever had blown up.

Poor Bruce. He had just wanted to save those kids from crappy lives, and I bet now he thought he had only made it worse. I doubted he'd be that bad of a father, if I had to have one. Maybe a little strict, but he seemed to have a heart under that uniform of his.

"Hey, Dick," a warm voice snapped me from my thoughts and I looked up to see Megan over by the windows with her hand raised in a gentle wave.

The rest of the common room was empty, something a bit different to look at, but I had to assume I was just early.

"The others will be here soon, don't worry. It's laundry day today and they like getting first dibs," the girl smiled warmly at me, almost as if she had read straight from my mind.

I returned the smile and walked over to sit by her, collapsing gently in the arm chair to her left. It was a bit rougher than Conner made it seem, I wasn't going to lie.

"Why aren't you in line then?" I drew my legs up beside me and turned to look over at her, adjusting my waistband.

Although new warm clothes did sound nice, I wasn't too eager to just get up and wait in a line for them. Maybe some other day, but I was barely awake enough to stay awake in this position.

Megan lightly combed her hair as she turned her gaze from the doorway to a small fixture on the ceiling that I easily figured was a camera. She held her eyes on it for a second and I swear on my life, her eyes flashed a blinding white. When she looked back to me, she had a more confident smile on her lips.

"I was in line originally, but M'Gann told me that you took a photo from Bruce's office and you had some questions about it," she raised her eyebrows at me and I felt all the breath leave my lungs.

I really didn't like it when these guys seemed to know more about me than they should have. It was starting to get on my nerves.

"H-how…?" I started to ask, but she rolled her eyes with the same little smirk.

"Like I said, M'Gann told me. Now, the camera's fixed to the point the guards can only see you leaned back like you're sleeping and me watching the hall. They won't think anything of it. Let me see the picture," she held her hand out and I just stared.

The camera was fixed? How do you fix a camera with a look? Did she have access to it, or a computer? Maybe it was just a little fantasy of hers? I wasn't sure, and that was probably the scariest part of it.

She had known though, somehow, so I pulled the photo from my pants and handed it over to her. Her amber eyes delicately traced over it with the smallest of a frown, hands tight on the picture's edge. I watched her study it for a while, probably a few minutes, before she turned it so I could see.

"It's a fake, and a really good one at that," she explained, smoothing out the crease that ran down the middle of the photo.

This was my first real look at the photo, so I took the time to study it as well.

"How can you tell?"

It looked real to me. The three teens were dressed up for what I had to assume was Halloween with their masks and costumes, probably some kind of superheroes. The costumes were beautiful, and not to mention expensive looking.

Three twin domino masks that looked a little like the one I had found under my mattress traced their faces and I couldn't help but put some thoughts to work. Maybe the sons had gone to the asylum before Bruce had adopted them? That could easily be how they all met. Maybe the counselor, all high and mighty in his office seat, had found a place in his heart for the three innocent crazy orphans. When they had gotten 'better', he could've easily just taken them back home. It was a sweet idea.

The tallest boy had on a black outfit fixed with what looked like a blue bird over his chest, a big grin plastered over his cheeks as he hugged the other boys to his chest. His long black hair fell thickly his face, hiding most of his features and I couldn't help but feel that I had seen him before.

The middle child with the skunk stripe had a red chest with the weirdest little yellow R on it, tied with some kind of clunky belt holding his waist. His black cape wrapped back behind the tallest kid and he seemed to be biting back a laugh. A troublemaker maybe, but there was affection in how he had an arm around the oldest kid and a hand gently on the shortest's arm.

The smallest boy's costume was styled near identical to the middle kid's, but his sleeves were extensions of the red on his chest instead of the black that the other boy had. His own cape was brushing out towards the edge of the picture and he was laughing hard enough that the eye slits in his mask were almost unseen.

They all just looked really happy together, in all honesty. I couldn't see any bit that looked photoshopped. There were even creases where they all gripped at each other. The shadows seemed to coincide… Was it the background? The faces?

"This photo never happened. Not yet, at least. The timeline's all wrong. The younger two never met before the middle one died, or at least not long enough for this picture to be genuine," Megan pushed the photo further into my hands, "but all the same, keep this. You'll need it in the case."

Before I could even _begin _to question what the hell had just happened, she popped up with an oblivious smile and went quick for the hall at the sound of several sets of footsteps. The others must've been returning with new sets of clothes, and I was left, once again, to drown in what I couldn't understand.

All the same, I put the picture in my waistband and got to my feet.

They're all insane, Grayson, don't forget that.

With a forced smile, I jogged after Megan to go greet the others.

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm more than partway tempted to run a contest of sorts, although I'm not sure of any of the details. I've always wanted fan art, but there are a lot of fics that I want put out there that I can only write one version of, so there's always that… and then it comes down to the prizes. I mean, I'm not all that good at much. A prize fic? Hardcore whoring of the winner's name? I can do prize art, given a few days to put something together. It's just something to do, before school comes back in—or even during school to make it a bit more bearable. Anyone interested?**

**Oh and we find out who the 12****th**** Doctor's going to be in sixteen hours so it's not like I'm freaking out or anything nope.**

* * *

Dick's POV:

My name is Dick Grayson, and I am sane. The birth certificate reads Richard John Grayson, dated March 20th, and I am by no means crazy. I am currently located in the B Ward of Arkham Asylum, patient #201 according to the bracelet they've recently put on my wrist, and I don't belong here.

I have to keep telling myself that, as often as I can, and it's all I've been sure of out of everything that's happened around here recently.

The others seem to know things about me and this place that they honestly shouldn't, and before they can go on, a few nurses come and take them away.

The nurses that give me my pills in the morning now check and make sure that I've taken the pills. They're hard to hide, but if I slide them right behind my back teeth, I can pull it off for a few seconds and that's all I really need.

The Vietnamese chef in the cafeteria just _smiled _at Artemis not too long ago and I swear… she just _snapped_. I'd never seen Artemis get that crazy, even to the point that she attempted to jump the counter. When Roy rushed over to sedate her, claiming that she was attempting to harm a worker, I couldn't help but think he was wrong. There was recognition and _hope _in her eyes, not rage. I don't know what she could've seen in that Crystal or Jade girl, but it had just made her night until she collapsed in Roy's arms.

Conner has inhuman strength, right until he has a gloved hand tugging sharp at his bicep to usher him out of the hall. Megan had dropped a marker beneath an armchair and in one hand, he had lifted the chair up and out of the way for her. Once he had left, I had tried lifting the chair with my two hands and could barely get it to scoot back.

They all seem to have nicknames too, but it freaks them all out when someone mentions it. Wally was the first to drop one, calling Kaldur "Aqualad", but I had thought he was just making fun of him for his odd belief. At his slip up, Megan had called him, "Kid Flash" in her scolding and it had shut her up firmly. Artemis had called Conner "Superboy" after the armchair incident with a bit of a laugh, but it had shocked them all. When Megan switched personas to M'Gann one time, talking about riddles and birds, I had called her "Miss M" after hearing Wally use it once. She had almost choked.

There was even a name for me: Robin.

I'm not crazy, and I don't belong here. I am by no means crazy—confused and lost maybe, still struggling to figure out how time worked around here, but not crazy. I'm at terms with my reality, and I want it to return to the orphanage.

According to Megan, it had been two pizza days since I had arrived, but it didn't feel much more than four days. When I had asked Bruce for a time check, he had simply assured me that not keeping track of it was part of our treatment. If anything, _it _was starting to drive me crazy. I didn't question his methods though, occasionally asking if he'd heard anything from the police on his sons. There had been no new information.

For him, or for me.

* * *

When I stepped out of the shower, I felt like I _had _to be glowing at least half of the sun's worth. A little hot water breaks down the tension and gets the thoughts flowing fluidly together again, which helps a bit more than I'd like to admit in the end.

I grabbed the towel from the hook and tied it around my waist, stepping out and walking down through the line of lockers to get out my clothes. As I pulled out the baggy sweats and big shirt, I distinctly recognized Wally belting out the chorus to some Spice Girls song and I instantly grinned.

Kid had taste, I give him that.

Knowing that I had the lockers to myself for a little bit, I threw on my clothes right there and listened to Wally's little concert until footsteps came by and snapped me from my daze. The boy that was walking in couldn't have been much younger than me, his hair plastered to his forehead from the water with the towel tight on his waist.

"Sorry," I gave a sheepish grin and shut my locker, putting the towel over my shoulder, "I'll just be a bit longer. Hair, you know."

He looked up and gave me a warm grin, waving his hand.

"I get it, it's cool. Just keep your back turned."

I gave him a final glance before walking over to the hand dryer, pressing the button and shoving my head under it. Maybe it would've been better to do this _before _I had put my shirt on, but I had been basking in the glow. The details always came later.

As I combed my fingers through my hair to speed up the process, I couldn't help but think that I had met this kid before. His face was too familiar for comfort; not to say that it hadn't been comforting. He looked nice enough. I'd have to ask him later.

Just as I had noticed Wally's concert had ended abruptly, a quick little shriek sounded from the lockers behind me. I jumped at it, hitting my head on the dryer with a groan before a sharp pain shot up from the back of my thigh. A little fleeting chuckle told me that I had been the victim of the redhead's towel.

I made a personal note to rub my fingers all over that one Sandra Bullock movie so it'd skip.

When I straightened up, the ebony back by the lockers was slipping his shirt on over his head with the most awkward of blushes, and I couldn't help but feel like I should've teased him for it. I didn't, but it seemed right.

Before I could even open my mouth, he had beaten me to the question.

"Have we met before?" he stared at me.

I almost laughed, rubbing my elbow.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing," I admitted, bringing a little grin to his lips, "A uh… Little Flower? You get cooped up in there?"

The kid tensed and gave a quick nod, making my heart jump. A part of me didn't believe I had seen it, and maybe I had just blinked a bit too quick.

"The Children's Home? Yeah, I was there for a few months—actually, it's one of the last places I remember," he combed his wet hair back off his forehead and I desperately studied his face, trying to place him, "but I don't think that's where I know you from. I didn't socialize with the other boys at Little Flower. Something before that…"

Before that? Where else could we have met? My parents hadn't had a funeral, seeing that we couldn't afford one, so that was out of the question… the circus maybe?

"Uh… Haley's Circus?"

At even the mention, I saw the spotlights flicker on in his eyes.

"Yeah! That's it! You were that one acrobat—w-with your parents! The uh… uh… Flying… Graysons! That's you, right?"

When I gave a sheepish nod, I suddenly had two arms around me and a little laugh pressed against my shirt. I couldn't help but laugh with him, returning the hug gingerly.

"What's that for, kid?" I felt my nose crinkle happily, waiting until he had pulled back.

Almost immediately, he held his hand out and I shook it.

"My name's Tim, Tim Drake. I was a big fan. You guys looked amazing up there," he beamed.

I might have blushed a little bit, but it was easy to say that it was simply the heat in here, or all the crazy gently leaving me alone for a while.

"Dick Grayson. Nice to see you again," I grinned a lot wider now.

I did recognize him. His folks had brought him to both of our shows up in Gotham—on the night of the first, he had asked for a picture with all of us. I specifically remembered how surprised he had been when he had seen that I was just barely nine and quadruplesaulting through the air like it was nothing.

"Set me up with a bar and I'd be happy to show off for you again," I gave him a little wink before waving a goodbye and heading for the door, dropping the towel off in the hamper.

I actually had to will my chest to unpuff from all of the pride that was swelling beneath it, a little laugh parting my lips as I did my best to sink to normal stance.

Just barely out the door, an arm slung around my shoulders and I smiled up at Wally.

"Got yourself a boyfriend, Grayson?" he teased me and I elbowed him, getting him to easily drop his arm back to his side.

I explained how I had known Tim and Wally seemed a bit impressed, even giving me a little clap and saying that he loved how I treated my fans. A noble man if there ever was one, he added sarcastically and I rolled my eyes.

We walked the hall back to the common room together and I told him a little bit about the circus, or at least answered what he had to ask. Apparently, his idea of an acrobat was someone who juggled bowling pins on a unicycle.

When I bragged about my quadruplesault, ignoring the yelling voice in my head reminding me of the note he had slipped me saying he had known I had mastered the triple easy, he made it clear that he didn't believe me.

"You're a little twig, kid!" he gave a laugh, putting his hands around my waist for emphasis and giving a squeeze.

I yelped, probably sounding a lot like a wounded puppy from the way he laughed at me, but his mind seemed to be set.

"Well, this little _twig_ will show you a thing or two after lunch. How's it sound?" I offered, protectively holding my stomach now and eying his hands.

When he noticed my stare, he laughed even harder.

"You'll break just from landing the jump," he sounded positive, and I was more than eager to prove him wrong.

When we got to the room, we went to the back and raided the dresser for some markers and paper, working as quick as we could.

Artemis took showers just a little shorter than Kaldur, giving us a good thirty minutes or so to tape some new targets onto her ceiling like we had jokingly promised. I was in charge of recreating Clark, and I was more than happy to make his target a bit bigger so Artemis would be sure not to miss it.

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	12. Chapter 12

**I apologize for missing a day, but if you've ever played Skyrim, you'll understand. My addiction for it… there's no limit, no way to measure it. It's gotten to the point that I was walking around Walmart yesterday with mom and almost on instinct, I crouched and had half a mind to start stealing stuff. No. Bad. Don't do that. Orientation tomorrow… not really looking forward to seeing people again. Alright. Let's get this done.**

**Oh, and welcome to Peter Capaldi, our newest Doctor.**

* * *

Dick's POV:

As time went on, days that didn't even feel like hours passing by, I slowly came to terms with the fact that I was losing my mind.

That isn't to say I've taken to thinking I'm a bird and am fashioning paper wings to use in my escape, no matter how cool that would be. Rather, I've found myself… heh, it's weird to even say… but I'm really starting to like this place. The asylum.

Although I miss being able to tell the time and getting to run around outside, it's slowly been seeping into my memories and replacing those of the orphanage. I was fully aware of it, but I couldn't care less.

My bed here was unbearable, but at the orphanage, some of the other kids often ended up taking my bed, so I was thankful to have one in the first place. The food looked like something from a Play-Doh oven and tasted a lot worse, not to say that I've eaten Play-Doh, but I was more than relieved to actually have something to eat here. I missed jeans and hoodies, sure, but the baggy clothes here took away the self-conscious part of everything because we all looked big and it was a wonderful thing.

The real reason, the one I could find anyway, that I've started liking it here has nothing to do with the actual asylum. It's the people—Clark excluded.

Bruce has grown on me, to the point I've come to consider him like a father figure. The one time I got the nerve to complain about the beds, he came in the next day with a pillow for me that felt like Heaven itself. I've stopped asking him why I'm here, for now at least, and took to asking him how his day went instead as he asked about mine. A part of me hoped one day that I could find a '#1 Dad' mug to give him as a joke.

Roy's got a nasty temper on him, I've always noticed that, but he's a little like Wally and I can't help but like him. It also helps that I've seen him get goo-goo eyes over Jade in the cafeteria more than once, a common source of my blackmail. I finally confronted him about it, and through his stammering and protesting, I vowed my silence if he'd get me some black hair dye. We're expecting it this week some time.

Though I've only met the boys in the locker room, the ones I've met from the BB Ward have all gained my approval.

I met Gar, the boy who did the animal impressions, and I couldn't help but think that he looked like a monkey—with the exception of the odd looking amulet he refused to take off. **[1] **The first time I had met him, he was standing on top of one of the shower stalls doing a brilliant gorilla impression that had Conner yelling in frustration. I laughed until I about peed myself.

Then there was Bart, and the second I saw the poor kid, my heart ached. I could play his ribs like a xylophone, even if he pressed out on his stomach as hard as he could. I tried not to stare, but a glance over what I had seen of his chest showed the weirdest of burns and scars that looked old. From what the others had told me, all I knew about him was that he believed he was from the future and had been tortured at some sort of camp before he had managed to escape. I would've guessed he had survived a concentration camp.

I ran into Tim pretty often down there, to the point we agreed to wait ten minutes after we were done and just update each other on our Ward's activities. I told him of how Wally had to do the laundry for a month after he had tried to steal a cake from the kitchen's pantries. He told me about a new patient he had seen getting walked into the BBB Ward whose face had nearly been completely bandaged with blood soaked bandages.

"I'd say he was a burn victim or something, but with hair that fiery, maybe he's just a really ugly ginger," Tim had teased with a grin, toweling his hair off carefully, "but it was the weirdest thing. The bandages… they kind of looked like a helmet. Even the back of his neck was covered in those bloody things!"

My real love for this place stemmed for the members of the B Ward, the other five that kept me company all day.

Conner acted like he had been born in a tube most days, but his stoicism had become a regular thing for me—and when he smiled, it made the smile look that much more genuine.

Kaldur had taken on the role of our… den mother, I suppose you could say, and he seemed to be just the right person for it. He'd make sure we'd all eaten dinner, even if it was an unconscious gesture, and he replaced Roy eventually in seeing us to our rooms at night. The one time Megan and M'Gann began having a mental war of sorts, bringing the redhead to sobs, he had rushed over and calmed her right out of it like a second nature.

Megan really was a sweetheart when she wasn't talking about things that none of us had ever told her, and she had the best powers of persuasion I had ever seen. She had actually managed to convince the kitchen to order in a _real _pizza for us somehow, and let me tell you, it was _fantastic_. The only bad thing about her, the one thing that makes me feel actually insane, is that sometimes… when she went quiet and just stared at me… it felt like… well… it felt like she was _in_ my head.

But then again, I'm insane. What do I know?

Wally had quickly become my best friend, no matter how _stupid _he was most of the time, and he seemed to know just how to cheer me up. When he was around, I always felt sexually harassed, but a part of me just assumed that's what friendship was supposed to feel like with him. It was probably worse for the girls. I only saw him at meals now, seeing that he was constantly being put back to laundry, but I made it count.

How much laundry could this place have? Seriously. Is there a cat walk somewhere that I'm not aware of?

Because if there is, I have a few techniques to teach the models. I didn't watch three years of America's Next Top Model just for the women. Smile with your _eyes_, darling. Lift those brows a bit! Don't be afraid to get daring!

Artemis had taken me in like a little brother pretty quickly, pestering me and trying to annoy me in the friendliest ways she could think of. She had a pretty bad temper too, but when you get her calm, she's a Queen with a smile to quiet nations. That Queen also has some pretty great ways to kill time.

After having Megan help us negotiate Roy into getting us some string, we drew some targets and tied them so the A/C would blow them to-and-fro violently. Some of the targets were of bad things that we were supposed to hit, like the cafeteria's milk cartons and the shower floors full of grime. A few were of good things that we would lose points for hitting, like the other patients here and puppies. Then there was one of Wally, a bit smaller so it'd be harder to hit, that gave you double the regular points.

Both equipped with rubber bands and pieces of paper that we covered thickly in marker so it'd leave a mark on the targets—she was green and I was red—we sat side by side on her couch and had Kaldur time a minute for each round, three rounds a game.

The first game, she won by 35 points because I couldn't figure out how to use the rubber band as a slingshot. When she demonstrated for me, she lost the second game by 2 points. Thank goodness for Pugs.

Our own little version of archery kept us busy right up until lunch, our hands stained by the marker's colors, but there were no hard feelings. On my half anyway. I won. Haha.

We left our weapons on the couch and shook on it, me smirking wide and her glaring daggers, before we all followed Roy down to the cafeteria where we met up with Wally again. He came up to greet us, throwing an arm around me in the closest he would manage to a hug for now. I knew well enough that I'd get smothered after dinner.

"Miserable without me, buddy?" he teased, keeping his arm around me as I grabbed my tray and started down the lunch line.

I looked up at him and could only see the stained piece of paper bearing a crude resemblance to him that we had been pelting for what had to be the past few hours. It took a lot of effort not to laugh.

"Absolutely," I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead and pretended to swoon, "There's a gaping hole where my heart used to be whenever you leave me."

He gave a cheeky grin and slipped his arm back, jogging over to get his own tray and run through the line. Ham sandwiches I assumed as I accepted one and moved it over to make room for the chips I had promised Wally.

At the table, I sat next to him and Kaldur, the other three sitting across from us. I handed my chips over and he in return handed me an awkwardly folded piece of paper. My heart stopped at first, but he gestured me to go ahead and open it, so I knew it was nothing like the first. I almost laughed when I opened it, a grin going over my cheeks.

It was a picture of us that he had drawn in crayon. He was in what I knew could only be a Sonic costume, making me Tails. Beside him in small little letters was 'gotta go fast' with a bag of money—there was a dollar sign on it at least—in his hand and a gun in my hand. We were running from what looked like a police car.

"I'm pretty sure this isn't how the video games went," I grinned ear-to-ear, putting the picture in the hem of my pants and nudging him, "I think all the chemicals are getting to your head."

Wally gave a little whine at even the mention, combing his fingers back through his hair with bugged eyes.

"It's terrible," he groaned, hiding his eyes in his palms before going back to his food and talking through a mouth of it, "So much blood and vomit to get out…"

A shiver ran him through and I couldn't help but laugh. He stared coldly at me, but I was fine with it.

"That's what you get! That cake was for all of us," Artemis stuck her tongue out at him after swallowing quickly, speaking faster so she could cough her throat free again with a sheepish little smile.

The redhead raised his plastic fork and pointed the wrong end at her, giving a mock laugh of his own with a crinkle of his nose.

"My metabolism's too fast! I'm dying over here," he tried to stand up for himself, making a grab for my cookie.

I just about stabbed him with my fork. Lucky for me, he pulled his hand back before I could, giving a genuine little laugh at that. I hid the cookie in my stomach where he wouldn't get to it.

"I'll try and save you something from dinner for a midnight snack," I offered and he beamed like a kid on Christmas.

I got smothered a bit earlier than I had expected, struggling for breath as he squeezed it out of my lungs.

"You're the best!" he gushed.

I managed to pry him off with a roll of my eyes, fixing my shirt.

"Don't look so excited. I'll hold this over you… make you owe me something," I decided, but there wasn't really anything that I wanted.

A part of me still longed to get out, but that same part wanted to bring these guys out with me, so I ignored it.

Megan brought up a dream she had had about being able to fly, saying she had been in some place called 'Bialya' looking for us all. She mentioned having green skin and a big blue cape with the most uncomfortable of smiles.

"Green would look good on you," Conner deadpanned quietly and Megan's face lit up in the cutest of smiles.

It made me want to lean over and just press their faces together, but that would simply be awkward so I stayed in my seat.

"I'd want the cape," I turned my plate over when I was finished and set my empty carton of orange juice on top of it.

Wally gave me an incredulous look before putting on a ridiculous attempt of Edna Mode's voice.

"No capes!"

I couldn't help but laugh, cutting it short when he reached for my orange juice. He shook it only to find it empty and wilted, making me laugh again.

"You'll be okay, princess," I assured him, giving a little squeak as a hand touched down on my shoulder.

I looked back to see Roy standing there, a grin on his lips as he pulled his hand back. Wally almost immediately grabbed for my arm.

"Gotta go fast," he pretended to make a break for it and I pulled up a finger gun with a little laugh.

Roy's look clearly stated that we were morons.

"Just got your hair dye in, Grayson," he explained himself and I grinned excitedly, giving a little dance. "I'll go talk to the warden really quick, but I'm sure he'll be fine with it. I should be by a little bit before dinner to snatch you and your hair dresser up."

I looked at the girls across from me and Megan seemed more than eager to help, eyes bright. Our guard gave a little grin.

"Whatever you say. Alright, kids, up and at 'em."

We all waved goodbye to a pouting Wally before heading back to the common room to finish our showdown.

* * *

**[1] I don't feel like explaining this to the reviewers, so if you missed it, Gar's wearing a glamour charm to conceal his… altered appearance. **

**And yes, I referenced Jason. The BBB Ward is to the DC characters I feature that weren't exactly in Young Justice. **

**-F.J. III**


	13. Chapter 13

**I would apologize for all the fluff that I'm stuffing this story with, but it's only here for you all to fall back on once the going starts to really get rough. If you didn't forget, I actually have a plot to work on. I know how this will end. My only problem is that I have to stretch it out… give it a good time line so it'll make sense and not seem… forced? I mean, more than once, I've been tempted to just give in and skip right to the end, but I… I want it to lead fluidly. I want you all on the edge of your surfaces, gripping your reading device until your knuckles are white, cussing me out through the screen. Too much to ask for?**

* * *

Dick's POV:

I stuck my tongue out at Clark one last time before closing the door behind me and making my way over to Bruce's desk, greeting the man with a grin. He returned the grin and raised me a white steaming mug, assuring me with a little chuckle that it was hot cocoa. I took it eagerly, sliding into the seat in front of his desk before burning my tongue on the first sip with a yelp.

"I figured the steam would be enough to tell you that it's hot," the man teased me and I shot him a lighthearted glare, lowering the mug and blowing across the top. "Alright, down to business. Anything new since we met last?"

I raised my eyes from the mug to shoot him what I hoped was a sarcastic smirk.

"You mean yesterday?"

He returned the glare and I laughed gently into the cocoa before taking a tiny sip. It took more strength than I'd like to admit to keep from shivering at how good it was. That's what I got for questioning the talents of Pennyworth's famous recipes; well, that and a burnt tongue. I took another drink before even thinking of getting down to what I was there for.

"Nothing really. Tim from the BB Ward-"

"Drake?"

"Short, black hair, cute laugh?"

"That's him."

"So you know him. Good, that makes things easier. We've been talking recently and-"

"When do you see him?"

"The locker rooms mostly. I- Don't make that face! We keep our towels on! God, Bruce, I swear… but, yeah, we were talking yesterday and he was telling me about a new kid to the BBB Ward. Said the poor guy's face was smothered in bloody bandages. We have a burn victim?"

I took my question as the time to drink more of the cocoa, feeling a happy melted sort of tingle run down to my fingers and toes simultaneously. This Pennyworth guy had to be a god of sorts. Who did Bruce say he was? A shop owner, yeah, but there was more… I feel like he said he was a butler at some point. Probably to the Queen of England with talents like that.

Bruce went from snickering at me to going business in a blink, eyebrows furrowing in thought before it seemed to come to him. He gave me a nod, leaning over and flipping open a manila folder to double check before he said anything.

"Yeah, new patient. We don't know a lot about him so far… guardians reported him missing and police found him unconscious in the remains of one of those Lazarus Pit restaurants. The place was burnt to the ground, a bit of him included. It's amazing that he survived," he glanced in the folder again, "I uh… Don't think you'll be seeing him, but his name is Jason, if you do. A uh… Jason Todd, I think."

I had maybe half a mug left and I was considering injecting the rest into my salivary glands so I'd taste it all day. Not that I was more concerned with my hot cocoa than this kid. Maybe I should've showed my concern more. Trust me, I was freaked out. I know how scary burning buildings can be—a few PETA members demonstrated to the circus tent one year when I was seven. The kid had looked about thirteen, maybe older, so he would've been a bit better off… despite the face thing.

"Shouldn't he be in… ICU? A hospital? You know… somewhere they can help him?" I asked cautiously, tilting my head to try and sneak a peek inside the folder before Bruce closed it, bringing a frown to my lips.

He gave me a little smirk at that before going back on topic.

"We can help him here. The worst of the physical damage has been healed," Bruce assured me, giving me a look that clearly said he appreciated my caring. "He's in here until he can recover from the emotional trauma of the event. I'm scheduled to talk to him after lunch."

My heart went out to the kid. Jason. Wasn't that Bruce's kid's name? It would explain the little grimace I had seen when he had said the police had found this Jason unconscious, seeing that his was in the grave. Would that be the opposite of survivor's guilt? Survivor's hatred?

Overthinking at its peak.

"Careful with that, boss man," I gave him a smile before taking a longer sip of my cocoa, "I heard he's ginger. Your soul's in danger."

Bruce gave a little smile, as if he didn't want to smile at that but couldn't help himself, and rolled his eyes at me. That was my cue that if I didn't keep conversation, I'd be giving up my cocoa.

"How many wards are there in this place?" I thought quickly, holding the mug close, "I know there are the three Bs. How much laundry is Wally stuck with?"

Bruce gave me a laugh for that, thumbing my attention over to the map behind him. I did my best to examine it over the top of the white mug.

"Just the three B wards so far. Kids 15 and older are in B, 14 and younger in BB and the newer arrivals in BBB," he explained the best he could and I gave a little shrug, finishing my drink and handing the mug back to the man with a thankful grin.

"That's all I can think of to stall for time," I gave a sheepish smile and rubbed at the back of my neck, "Thanks for the cocoa. Tell that Pennyworth guy he's some kind of magical."

I got up and gave him a nod, holding his smile until I got to the door. There was a bit of dread in me at the thought of opening the door to Clark, but I figured a minute with him wouldn't necessarily kill me.

Unless he had a gun.

In which case that minute would definitely kill me.

I would be deader than dead.

The deadest. God, is that really a word? Wow. And none for the English language bye.

Instead of coming face-to-face with that dick bag though, a grin stretched over my face as I found Wally there instead, piles of sheets folded in his arms. He leaned against the door with a big smirk towards me, raising his eyebrows.

"You going my way, doll?" he let out in a drawl.

I shut the door behind me with a little chuckle, leaning against it beside him and pushing my hair back from my forehead.

"Is there any other way to go, Daddy-O?" I winked at him.

He laughed again and nodded me to follow him down the hall, immediately earning me on his heels.

"What are you doing down here, Wally?" I casually asked him, eying the sheets in his hands for an answer, "Aren't you supposed to be doing laundry?"

The redhead gave a proud smirk at even the thought, a scoff parting his lips.

"You know who you're talking to, buddy?" he shook his head at me and adjusted the sheets in his arms, "No, I'm still on laundry duty. Fitting the beds with sheets and enlisting your help. Up for it?"

Although sheeting the beds wasn't on my list of things to do today, I knew Wally was probably dying of boredom all by himself here so I agreed. His eyes gave a little twinkle.

"You're a lifesaver," he sighed happily, handing me a sheet set. "I'll get Kaldur's room. You mind getting mine?"

I gave him a little shrug, going up to his door and throwing back the lock.

"You'll have to lift the mattress a bit; damn thing won't hold on the back edge," Wally tossed me a warning and I took it in mind as I walked in.

I'm not sure what I expected his room to look like, especially seeing that it was just a temporary place in an asylum, but nothing about this little section said anything remotely similar to Wally. There should've been a big window that he could slip out of at night to run off and cheer up his friends, a few posters of women on motorcycles, something from South Park and a small turtle tank.

Instead, his room was completely bare—aside from a single photograph taped above the head of his bed. I walked over curiously and studied it, setting the sheets down for a moment. It was a little red haired boy, maybe seven, with a blonde man. They were holding hands with near identical grins on their lips, waving at the photographer as their walk had been interrupted.

The boy had to have been Wally, no questions on it, but I couldn't quite place the man's relation. He obviously wasn't the father. There was no resemblance of the two, down to the smallest features on the man's face. I guessed the uncle, but if anything, he was an uncle by marriage.

Dick, no snooping. Dick, no snooping. Dick, no snooping.

Oh, man!

I went back to his bed and stripped off his old sheets, noticing the catch he had mentioned and giving a little tug before tossing it lazily into a heap behind me and picking up the new sheet to replace it. Fitting the top edges was like sliding on too big of shoes, but the bottoms wouldn't go for the life of me. Giving a little grunt, I lifted the mattress and completely forgot that I was doing something.

Underneath the mattress, held on with sewing pins, were all sorts of papers, sketches and photographs that the walls had obviously never had the pleasure of holding. In the middle, there was a piece of blank paper with a message addressed to me:

**Dick-**

**You were always the better detective between the two of us. I'm at a loss here. Take all this back to your room in my old sheets and ****hide ****it. Together, we can figure out what the hell's going on here. If you think of anything or noticed anything that I didn't, smuggle a marker back out of HQ and add it to my stuff before giving it back. Zatanna might not have made it out, but we will. **

**-Wally**

I stared at it blankly, lips hanging open with a dead silence in my chest before everything seemed to hit me at once. The papers wouldn't come off quite fast enough. Quick as I could, I shoved them all into his old sheets, making sure not to miss one, before adjusting his new sheet and cradling the old sheets in my trembling arms. A forced slow breath helped still them as I walked out into the hall where I knew the cameras were.

Wally shot me a pointed glance and I gave him a little nod, taking another slow breath.

"I'm going to get my room," I managed out, waiting until the relieved grin stretched over his cheeks before quickly going in the door and stuffing everything I could underneath my mattress.

Just when I thought things were getting normal.

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	14. Chapter 14

**With school coming up, I've been decorating my folders with fandoms and TV shows of all sorts. Right now, I'm working on a River song Folder with every quote she's ever had, or as many as I can fit. The front has her very first quote on the show, "The library. Come as soon as you can. X" on the psychic paper. The back is a bad one of her face. The inside has her journal and her little stick figure saying goodbye from when she used the hallucinogenic lipstick to escape prison. Only two episodes of quotes down and I'm almost out of room. It did remind me of how much I love her though. **

**Alright sorry updating.**

* * *

Dick's POV:

After hiding the pictures under my mattress, I picked up the old sheet again and went back out into the hallway where I regrouped with Wally. He had a few crinkled sheets folded in his arms, a shaky smile to his lips as he looked me over. Of all the words I'd have ever related to him, nervous would never come to mind until now, looking over at him.

"Walk with me back to the laundry room? Stay as long as you can… It uh… It gets pretty boring," he slipped right back into character as if he were sliding on a jacket and flashed me a sheepish grin, nodding me after him.

I didn't need the nod to know to follow him, quickly keeping step with him and trying to encourage him to slow his pace so we could talk about this. The cameras would make it hard, but I had to try something. There was no way I'd be able to wait until tonight for this.

"I uh… see what you mean," I started slowly, earning an eyebrow raise from him, "about the sheets. I mean, I noticed it when I got here. They're… well, they're sheets. They slip right on and they can pass, but… it's like… they just don't fit. Some of it hooks right on like its nothing, but… then you've got those… back edges and it just doesn't make any sense."

I have to admit, relating my memories to sheets wasn't exactly my best call, but with our conversations being listened in on… well, I couldn't take the chance. I didn't want to go through the brain-washing or whatever they did. No thanks. Not for me.

Crossing my fingers internally, I almost screamed when Wally's face showed his understanding and the relieved smile came back.

"I thought I was losing it for real," his eyebrows tucked in tight and the briefest glimmer of fear flashed through his eyes, "None of the others see it, or at least as far as I know."

His fingers tightened around the sheets in quick little pulses, a rhythm that I picked up on quickly. He really was afraid of this. Now was not the time to hug him. Now was the time to keep a calm pace through the hallway beside him.

"Don't worry, Wally. We'll figure it out," I assured him, touching a hand gingerly to his arm after I had adjusted the sheets over my arm, "I mean… If I noticed it, the others have to. They're probably just… afraid of admitting it. Like you said, I thought I was losing my mind. I wasn't sure anybody else noticed it. Want me to ask around?"

At even the mention, the fear returned to the emerald gaze and I shut my mouth carefully, studying his face for the words he couldn't say under surveillance. I could read it right off his features. He didn't want the nurses to drag me away.

"You worry too much, Kid," I used his nickname to try and soothe him, only furrowing his brow tighter, "Take a deep breath and let me work my magic. I'll study the bed tonight and see if I can find the problem there. You just… You look at the sheets themselves, seeing that you're held up in there for a while longer still. We'll put the pieces together eventually, you and me."

The redhead looked down at the sheets and gave a sore laugh, fists softening on the sheets and a gentle smile fading from his lips. It was as if the words were all a bad memory that he'd rather push away. What I'd give to get a peek in his head.

"I like that idea," he said after a while, his smile returning with his gaze to me, "You and me. We've got a mystery on our hands, gang."

I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head with a grin and waiting in step for him to open the laundry room door for me to follow in after him. I dropped the sheets in the apparent washing machine and glanced around carefully, noticing the lack of clothes to wash. If anything, it looked like he just cleaned the place to pass the time.

"Go and get out of here, Robin," he used my nickname with an affectionate smile, "Stay whelmed."

I was just about the door when a wave rolled me through at the word. Whelmed. Regularly used in the context of being over or under, but those prefixes are quite useless when considering that one could just be whelmed and get it over with.

"Whelmed," I repeated, liking how it felt on my tongue. "I like that word. Might use it. You mind?"

"By all means."

* * *

When I got back to the common room, I stared in a stunned silence to find it completely empty. That wasn't a settling thing to come to.

Almost instantly, every bad thing that could've happened rushed through my head.

What if they all tried to escape and were suffocated? They could be dead. What if they were being brainwashed? They could've OD'd. Choked to death. Transferred. What if they were let out? God, what would I tell Wally?! No goodbye, no note… A kitchen fire maybe? What if they were all burnt like that new Jason kid?!

I touched a hand to my head to try and quiet the rushing thoughts, but it only intensified as I heard the distinct click of footsteps coming up behind me. Swallowing slow and prepping myself for the worst, I turned and felt a grin stretch over my lips.

"Dick! We've been looking for you every-"

I hugged Kaldur first, as if it were instinct, pulling back with an apology and disregarding Roy for a moment. He could wait.

"I thought you went and died on me," I scolded the blond, scratching my neck sheepishly, "or something along the lines."

Kaldur gave me a smile and shook his head.

"You are not that lucky this morning," he teased, pulling up a small box and tilting it to show me that it was a box of hair dye, "We have some work to do."

Approximately 402 questions sprung up in mind at that moment, my eyes darting from the box to him to Roy beside him, but I easily ruled out 400 of them.

"You're late, by the way," I pointed an accusing finger at the guard and smirking at the sputtering face he gave, cutting him off before he could give me an explanation, "You done this before, Kaldur?"

The teen gave me an assuring smile, turning the box over to glance at the directions. The assurance left me right there, to be honest.

"It cannot be that hard," he sounded optimistic, switching the box to his other hand, "Roy talked the warden into giving us the locker room so we will not stain our sinks. We just have to be careful not to dye the showers black as well."

As he started walking for the door, I quickly followed behind him, quickly realizing I was becoming some kind of lapdog for these guys.

"I don't know, I mean… I'd say a change of color would be good for that place," I slipped around him and snatched the box from his hand, glancing the directions over once for myself.

The instructions didn't seem too hard.

It was weird. I had to have dyed my hair before for the roots to be growing back. Why couldn't I remember how to do it? If the asylum had blocked out some of my memories when I had came here, why block out something so useful? If anything, make me forget how to land a back flip from the couch back or how to do a perfect split.

"If we get any change of color down there, we're dying West's stall _rainbow_," Roy gave a little smirk and Kaldur bit back a chuckle of his own.

It took me a bit too long to remember that West was Wally's last name and not some other patient that I hadn't met.

"Rainbow's a bit much," I shook my head, cringing at the thought of how bright it would be, "That kid needs a golden wall behind him or something. He's a walking ball of sunshine."

I passed the hair dye back to Kaldur and caught the intrigued smile just before he tossed it aside, playing with the top to the box idly before impersonating one of Wally's famous performances.

Let's just say that Wally's not the only one who can do a spot on Shakira impression. My eyebrows rose on their own accord and I gave the blond a few slow claps, a grin spreading over my lips.

"You could join him in a duet," I teased, loving the look Roy shot me for it.

I couldn't tell if he really liked the idea or was completely and utterly appalled at even the thought. Either way, a little Shakira in the morning was a good way to start everything off.

Especially the Hips Don't Lie dance the ginger would toss in every once in a while on his way to get dressed. The first time, I blushed from secondhand embarrassment so hard I about asked for ice to keep from getting second degree burns on my cheeks.

Now I was really impressed by it. Anyone who can move like that deserves to be showered in thornless roses beneath a spotlight.

It only gets bad when he wants a dance partner and no one else will be bothered. It's fine when I've at least got my pants on, but that kid has no shame, I swear. If I could bottle his self-confidence and sell it on the streets like drugs, I'd be in a nice big Manor with a butler and a giant underground laboratory.

The rest of the walk down to the locker room, I became aware that I was faintly humming Hips Don't Lie under my breath. I hadn't noticed, but the other two had from the size of their smirks.

"He's a good dancer!" I held my hands up in surrender and they both grinned ear-to-ear at me.

Lucky for me, their little torment didn't even get a chance to start as Roy told us he couldn't stay. Apparently, he had guardly duties to attend to. Guardly duties named Jade, I bet. We waved him off before heading into the locker room, staring around the deserted place carefully. I almost missed it, but the second we stepped in, Kaldur dropped into a defensive stance with a near silent step, as if he were a cop or something. It was kinda cool looking.

"It's so weird when no one's in here," I frowned, flicking on every light switch I saw to be safe, "Kind of like some bad horror movie."

Kaldur looked at me and tilted his head before making a really bad impression of the Grudge. We both laughed for a bit over it, and I have to admit, it made me feel safer. As he gestured, I took a seat on the bench and watched him fiddle with the box.

Conversation isn't my strong point, but I had a million questions for him. He seemed to sense this, sending me a glance, but he picked my second question from earlier instead of the newer ones coming to mind.

"Megan and M'Gann are attending a therapy session with John in the BB Ward," the blond explained to me, breaking the tab and sliding the tube out gingerly, "Otherwise she would be here in my place."

I tensed at the distance in his voice and offered him a smile.

"Hey man, it's no big deal. You're cool," I assured him, seeing a flicker of a smile dart over his lips, "I only asked her in the first place because her hair doesn't look natural. Kind of figured she had experience…. But… John? The guy with the jacked face?"

His green eyes scanned the back of the tube, probably looking for hazards or something, before answering me.

"No, no, but same name. There are two Johns here: a Smith and Jones. You must have met John Smith. Megan and M'Gann are visiting John Jones. They fell into a dispute and needed some help settling it. He seems to have the best luck with her."

I gave a little nod, wondering how that went. All I knew about someone with multiple personalities or… DID, whatever she had… was from cartoons and I figured those were offensive and completely off the mark. Would she have punched her face and done the whole "stop punching yourself" shtick? Probably not, but that's the stuff of cartoons right there. Where's my money?

Kaldur slid some plastic gloves on over his hands and helplessly began. The dye was a lot colder than I had expected.

"Well... This may take a while. We could talk about our 'feelings'," I gave a smirk as I practically felt his eyes roll, "No, but… I mean, I don't really know a lot about you. You're part Atlantean… Spin me up your story."

He shifted his weight and combed his fingers gently through my hair and I let him, sitting there quietly as he looked for the right words.

"If you plan to just make fun of me, save it. I know how crazy I sound," he eventually managed out.

I looked back at him, apologizing as he lost hold of his work, and searched his face carefully.

"It's not crazy," I promised, holding his eyes so he'd know I was being honest, "You managed to last longer underwater than a grown adult. I'm not sure if the lungs are effected by pregnancy, but if not, it's pretty incredible that you managed to last that long. I wouldn't go as far as to call you Atlantean, but you do have a pretty amazing gift there."

Kaldur gave a sigh and I could just barely hear it tremble, taking that as my cue to turn and face another way. He went back to working the dye into my hair for a while and I enjoyed it while I could.

I wondered how weird it would be to ask one of the others to play with my hair. Maybe if I asked Artemis to braid it to pass the time, it wouldn't be as weird. Was my hair long enough to braid? Had to be.

"I do not think I am Atlantean just because I have stronger lungs than my mom. That would be similar to you assuming you are a bird simply because you can jump higher than I," there was a strong hesitance in his voice, as if he were afraid to even mention was he about to, but he seemed to trust me, "I have not told the others, mostly because I thought they would laugh… but… when I was under the water… I… had gills. It happens here too, in the shower. My neck… _opens _and the skin just… _vents_… like fish gills."

As if he had read my mind, he pulled his hands back so I could turn around and look up at his neck through a furrowed brow. Maybe it was starting to get crazy. I had to give him the benefit of the doubt though. Maybe it was just an unhealed scar or something along the lines. I stared, unable to find a slit or gap anywhere on his dark skin.

"Mind showing me?" I asked, tilting my head just in case the marks were higher up along.

I still saw nothing though, even as he gave a nod and went over for the sink.

"Your hair should be done anyway," he gave a shrug and removed the gloves, throwing them into the trashcan.

There was still some dye left over on the bench, so I wouldn't have to ask Roy for a refill for a long time. Hopefully.

I stood by, praying my neck wouldn't be dyed black by the time he was done, and watched silently as he pressed the plug down in the sink.

"I know I sound insane," he apologized in advance, turning the sink on and letting it fill as fast as it could, "but…"

I gave him an encouraging grin and gestured him to go on, my curiosity higher now than it had been before. Either he'd drown right there or I'd walk out amazed.

When the sink was filled just about to the brim, Kaldur cut the water off and curled his fingers into nervous fists. He gave a final fleeting breath, shooting me a shaky glance before lowering his head to his lower neck into the water.

I watched carefully, stepping closer to save him if need be, watching his neck intensely. That's when I realized that I must have believed him. Either that or I was struggling to remember if I knew how to perform CPR. I wasn't losing him here; not here, not ever.

And then, I saw it.

I had to look again, even wiping my eyes once to be sure, but it was unmistakable. Just like he had described, a seam gently became more noticeable halfway down his neck before it parted and lifted up delicately. It widened, a flurry of bubbles passing through it before it shut. Five seconds later, it was back open with a return of the bubbles. It shut. Opened, with bubbles.

I couldn't believe my eyes. He was serious. Those were… those were gills. He had gills.

That wasn't possible. Was he a mermaid? Could Atlantis be real? Maybe it was a birth defect? Genetic mutations? There had to be a logical explanation… there… had to be… I just couldn't think of one past _gills gills gills gills. _

When Kaldur raised his head out of the sink, water curtaining down from his face like a little waterfall, he gave me a helpless smile.

"See?"

Needless to say, after I washed my hair, I walked out amazed.

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	15. Chapter 15

**It turns out that updating around school is a pain in the butt. I understand that most of you are in school just like me, so let me make it known now, **_**it gets better**_**. If some kid starts picking on you for drooling over that pretty girl in your math class or for having some cushioning around your internal organs, **_**you come to me**_**. I've been teased and taunted all my life and I understand how much it hurts. I do. Come to me and I'll make you feel better. Inbox message me even. Let me help you when they won't. Tell me about your days, your troubles, your thrills… I actually love hearing them. Stories. They're great, and sometimes inspire me. Just remember: the road may look rough, but put some faith in your tires and ease off the accelerator. Take it slow and you'll make it out unscathed.**

* * *

Dick's POV:

On the walk back to the common room, I couldn't think of anything to say to Kaldur. I wasn't even sure that I could manage words, probably looking traumatized to the guards that nodded their hellos at us down the halls. I wasn't quite sure that I wanted to know what they thought had happened in the locker room to get me this quiet.

To be honest, their thoughts hadn't been able to cross my mind—not with the scientific slur turning my brain over in my skull. There had to be an explanation, one that didn't involve the little mermaid actually being a true recollection rather than a faerie **[1] **tale. I have to admit, that thought scared me right down to my core. Mermaids aren't cute little ladies with seashell bras. No, they're evil teeth mashing monsters that drown men and sink ships. I quite liked not drowning. Dry. Cozy.

I knew what my eyes had seen though. There was no denying it. His skin had lifted up and bubbles of air drifted out. When he had raised his head, he hadn't been gasping for air. Even the best at holding their breath would've at least hitched a moment to refill their lungs. Maybe it was just a birth defect? His skin got cut on something as a baby, but by some miracle, it healed to the point it didn't kill him. It could be some medical miracle. Or it could be gills.

As I looked now, I could just barely make out the line of where his gills were, and to be honest, that scared me even more. I hadn't noticed it before, but now it was all I could see.

I had scars. I had far too many. Some were on accident, some were self-inflicted, but I had them all the same. Arms, thighs, a few on my shoulder and a ton over my chest. I knew what scars looked like. I knew how they healed. That wasn't a scar. Scars were always a bit more noticeable. A darker edge to some, a slightly darker patch on the skin—and to the fresher ones, the pink of the healing skin is still just barely leaching out and trying to conform with the rest of your flesh. It would be a bit more noticeable on his skin, I would think.

"Has it… always done that?" I just barely managed to choke out as we passed the cafeteria.

The blond gave a chuckle and a small smile passed over his lips. "No, I cannot say that it has; but then again, I never had reason to try it."

I focused on breathing for a long moment, in through the nose and out through the mouth, at least until I could get a grip on my thoughts.

"And none of the others know?"

This time, his laugh was more ironic than anything, sounding sore. It was like Wally's laugh from earlier, only this one sounded on its last leg.

"You have heard the name they gave me: 'Aqualad'. They think I am truly insane… and… deserving of this place, when it is quite the contrary. I just have nowhere else to go… and I would prefer not going to an orphanage."

I must have locked my jaw or growled at that, not sure I really remember, but either way, he touched a hand sympathetically to my arm.

"That came out wrong. Orphanages are fine. I have nothing against them. I just have a hard time believing I could live happily with strangers."

I tried on a sore smile of my own. Not liking how it felt, I tossed it with a shrug and shook my head.

"No one really wanted me anyway," I admitted, stuffing my hands into the pockets of the grey sweatpants. "My folks were offed when I was nine, so I remembered it pretty well. Anyone who came by wanting to take us home automatically skipped over the sniffling kid in the corner. By the time I was 'over it', so to say, I was too old for anyone to really want. They all go for little kids, not me."

Kaldur gently put an arm around me and I relaxed into the half hug, giving him a small smile. He didn't need to say a word for me to feel the apology hanging on his lips.

"Look on the bright side," he eased his arm off and patted my back once instead, just as I caught sight of the carpet in the common room coming up, "You have us."

The side couldn't get much brighter than that.

When we got to the common room, Kaldur went back to his fish tank to get lost in thought and I just about went to my couch. Instead, Artemis beckoned me over and shoved three cases into my arms before I could think much of it.

Roy had brought us some new movies, Artemis beyond thankful, and she had narrowed it down to three she wanted to see. I picked the one with the coolest cover, something about the number four, and put it in for her. She took her spot on the couch and I casually sat on the floor just beneath her, nudging her hand with my head until she took the hint and started playing with my hair.

I became a cat for a good 109 minutes, purring quietly and almost falling asleep to the affection. When the movie ended, the affection stopped and I just about hissed, catching myself and instead frowning as loudly as I could. The blonde laughed at me, giving my hair a final tousle before getting up again and taking the movie out. I'm pretty sure I glared at her the whole time, breaking her into more laughter.

"You're adorable, kid," she shook her head with a grin and I stuck my tongue firmly out at her.

I'm not adorable. I'm manly as hell.

After a very manly bit of pouting on my part, we had another movie in and she was playing with my hair again.

She called me pathetic a few times with a little laugh, but I just basked in the affection and let my head relax back on the couch until I about fell asleep again.

With my eyes closed and the world blocked out, for the longest time, I could pretend Artemis was my mom and everything was okay again. I was sitting against a ratty old red couch in our trailer between mom's legs just before bed. Dad was next to her and we were watching a movie on our twelve inch TV with the adjustable little bunny ear antennas.

_Deep breath, Dicky _she would tell me with the softest smile as she ran her fingers through my hair, _The big day's coming up and that spotlight will be all yours. _

Dad would lean over and kiss her cheek before leaning down close to me.

_Don't tell me you're scared, sport? _he would tease and I'd scrunch my nose up, shaking my head firmly.

Don't be silly, dad. I'm a big kid now, and no big kid is afraid of anything. I'm going to be so great that they'll make a new circus— just for me! People will come from all over just to see me. I'll get my own spotlight and everything!

And they would chuckle at that, cuddling close to each other as they turned their eyes back to the TV. I would never pay attention—never was one for movies. I'd just lean my head back and take a deep breath.

Big show's coming up, after all. I can't be too worked up; they never put the net up for big shows. If my palms get too sweaty, I'd drop like a stone.

"C'mon, Dick. Lunchtime," I heard mom say, gently patting the side of my head.

I didn't bother to open my eyes, instead just shrinking back into the couch with a little groan.

"Dad can wait a little bit longer, mom. Can we stay a few more minutes?" I asked softly, hugging my knees in tight to my chest.

There was a moment of silence.

"What?"

I hugged my knees a bit tighter now, eyes still shut gently, wondering why the couch felt a little bit harder now.

"Don't… Don't tell dad… but… I'm really scared for tonight. What if something goes wrong? I could fall and…" I stopped, leaning my head down into my knees.

I expected to hear her little laugh and to feel her tug the hair at the very top of my head, her way of getting my attention, but I was met with neither. Confused, I opened my eyes and reality hit me like a freight train.

No ratty red couch. No twelve inch bunny-eared TV. No cramped little trailer with metal walls and badly framed pictures of the family.

More importantly, no mom.

Instead, it was just Artemis, standing a few feet away and staring at me with a heartbroken expression.

"Dick…" she whispered, taking a feeble step towards me.

A sob burnt down at the base of my throat, rushing up fast like puke and I shooed her away with my hand, shoving my face back down between my knees. I heard her fleeting footsteps start to grow more distant.

How could I forget something like that? Mom and dad are _dead_. I got to their bodies before the EMTs did, feeling for pulses that weren't there in throats that weren't attached correctly anymore. I witnessed the cremation. I hugged their urns and sobbed until I blacked out.

No parents, no family—no one left.

Just me.

Holding their faces in my hands and screaming at them while the others tried to pull me back. I yelled at dad first, as if it were a prank on his half. I punched him until my knuckles bruised and pressed on his chest desperately. The yelling didn't come for mom until I was holding her close and sobbing onto her chest. Three of her ribs jutted out wrong and were poking me in the stomach. Holding their hands and praying until I couldn't breathe a word without aching all throughout.

The circus couldn't take me on and I had no next of kin, so the men in the black suits hauled me away to an orphanage with a stiff bed and a look of overall loneliness. I couldn't sleep the first two weeks. Refused to eat. All I wanted to do was die. They ended up issuing me to a hospital for a while, just until I could stand on my own.

Why?

What did I ever do?

Was it because I didn't brush my teeth twice a day?

Was I ungrateful?

How come the selfish brats of this world get to keep their parents, drinking and swearing them off, but I didn't?

It wasn't fair.

I didn't deserve this.

No one deserved this.

I wanted to go home. I wanted to see mom and dad. I wanted to put chalk on my hands and practice our new routine. Where were the goodnight kisses? Where was I supposed to go when I had a bad dream? Who was going to be proud of me when no one else was?

No one—just me.

The tears were slow at first as I fought them back, trying to keep my breathing steady and my mind free, but as the sobs built up more in more in my chest, I stopped fighting. I dunked my hands in water and grabbed the bar, dropping like a stone.

The sobs shot up from the pit of my stomach and racked my body along the way, all the warmth slowly draining from my limbs and seemingly going into my tears. Not long in, I started gasping for breath, desperate to get it back. When the tears began drowning me, I couldn't even breathe right. I just screamed into my knees, digging my nails into my skin.

Just me.

But then, it wasn't.

A thick arm went around my shoulders and pulled me close, rubbing my arm comfortingly. I lifted my head, a pounding headache making it hard to think, and barely managed to make out Bruce behind the blur. That was all I needed to see to surrender, turning and burying my face in his shirt before I let go entirely and sobbed for all I was worth. His other arm went around me and he rubbed my back in small circles, hushing me in whispers.

"It'll be alright, Dick. I've got you… Everything's going to be just fine…"

I had a hard time believing that.

* * *

**[1] Fairy tales are like Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella—actually fairies with wings and such. Faerie tales are like Beauty & the Beast and Little Red Riding Hood—mythical creatures.**

**-F.J. III**


	16. Chapter 16

**Alright, this is from Wally's POV simply because I didn't know how to phrase it from Dick's. This might be a one time thing. So, if you hate it, don't worry. If you like it though, I may fall back on it in similar runs of writer's block. Sorry this is late. **

* * *

Wally's POV:

I love lunch. Love it. There should be a God dedicated solely to the feasting of lunch, because I would worship him. At the church, we'd probably talk about good lunch time foods. Corn dogs, pizza, sandwiches, barbeque, shrimp, onion rings, chips, brownies, rotisserie chicken, no crappy vegetables, a big tall glass of caffeine, Amen. After the service, we would probably dine on said foods. Ah. Lunch.

If I've said it two direct times already and implied it two more times, there's no telling how many times I've said it previously. A hundred times? A thousand? I wouldn't bother counting. In that time, I could probably be eating lunch.

What was the point with this? Did I have one? I know I came here to write about more than my love for lunch. I've got at least twelve entries on that already. I had a point this time. Ah. What day is it? Thursday? No, no, pizza Tuesday was four sleeps ago. So… Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday… It was Saturday. Or at least by the asylum's standards. The days are wrong.

I tried to keep track by the movies, but I'm always afraid they see it on the cameras. Always on. Always watching. Except in our rooms, which I guess is for the best. I don't perform well for a crowd, if you get the drift.

The half days easily could've been extended, and I'm still not sure how long I've been here. Weeks? Months? Maybe even years. Time doesn't really fly here—just kind of sticks together like a big gooey glob of ice cream on top of a nice apple pie. God, that sounds great. Wish we had stuff like that for lunch. I'd even settle for apple cake. Do they make that? Apple cake? They have to. It probably wouldn't taste very good… hm… You'd just have to know how to work the oven right. It could potentially be the greatest thing ever. Or, you know. Really gross.

Right. Saturday. Lunch! That's where I was going. Alright. Actually, I was already there.

I was sitting there at our long table with my tray in front of me, fingers drumming idly on the table while I waited for Dick and Artemis to catch up with the others. Artemis I didn't really care for as much, sorry, dear, but Dick was a great source of food for me.

I don't mean that in a cannibalistic way. Well, potentially. I've always wondered what human tastes like. I wouldn't want to have to eat a human though. Like if I was starving, I'd starve to death. But, like, if they had it at a buffet. I'd try it. No lie. No jokes. Just to say I had.

You see, I have a really high metabolism. In other words, I'm the luckiest son of a bitch in this damned institution. I eat and it goes right through me. That way, I can stuff my face with the whole kitchen and still be as thin as I am. The bad news is, with the way it passes through so fast, I'm always _starving_. Still not the eat-a-human kind, but it's bad. My stomach becomes king of the jungle and rules it like his little bitch.

I can eat the whole tray—well, not the plastic, won't digest very well—but the cafeteria won't give me seconds. They say I'm getting the right amount for my body mass or whatever, which is total bull.

That's where my little buddy comes in. That kid's fit as a horse—in the good way, love you, kid. He doesn't eat though. I'd say his stomach's no bigger than my eye, in all honesty. Little nibbles and bites and then—wahlah!—he's done. All that food left for me and my starving stomach.

But he wasn't coming in. It was just the romantic duo and fish boy across from me. I was alone, and starting to get suspicious.

It got even worse when Artemis came back alone, a panicked look on her face. I looked from my tray to her expression. Sandwich or possibly injured little buddy? Lunch or Dick? Mild satisfaction or an extension of my laundry time after the guards whooped me?

Damn it.

I don't even remember getting up, but before I was aware of anything else, I was bolting down the hallway Artemis had come from as fast as my socks would carry me with three guards behind me.

In my head, police sirens and dramatic gunfire played behind me as I ran, but out loud it was much less dramatic. Just four sets of unmatched patter and breathing. I wasn't afraid that they'd catch me. Not to brag, but I'm pretty freaking fast. I mean, it's kind of ridiculous. I sometimes feel like I'm just a blur when I run. A little flash, you know? Besides, I already had half a hallway and growing on them. I didn't need long. Just had to make sure Dick was okay. That's it. And if he wasn't, the guards could help me try and fix that.

I hoped he was okay. What if he had a panic attack and hit his head? Drowned in the fish tank? Jumped out the window? TV fell on him? Starved? I knew I should've made him eat more. This is my fault. My little buddy's hurt and it's my fault. If he made it out of this, I was going to start feeding him like a real Robin, regurgitation and all. I'd make him a nice nest out of pillows.

"Patient, please! I need you to return to the cafeteria!" one of the guards pointlessly shouted up at me and I just laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, in a minute! I have to check on Dick!"

I took the corner the best I could and ducked John's surprised arm, putting a bit more step into my run. That guy was some kind of machine with his speed. I could swear that he was a real robot, maybe even put money on it. Might not win though. Better bet low.

The second I caught sight of carpet, I braced myself because, just like I thought, I tripped over the bump where wood meets carpet. Stagger, stagger, turn, hit the couch back, flip down onto the carpet again. Relatively painless and it looks pretty cool. Especially now that I've managed to hit it with the small of my back and not my face. Those bruises took a while to dull out.

When I stood, I took a moment to look around in case Dick was still in HQ. Fish tank, chair, chair, couch, chair, TV, chair, body, chair, movies, couch, chair, couch, window—body. Body. Whose. Black hair. Really black hair. No roots. But. It had to be. Had to be.

"Dick?"

The second the head lifted itself from its knees, I ran up and practically threw myself onto the ground, putting my arms around him. He gave a surprised shriek, tensing under it, but he didn't hesitate to lower his legs and put his arms around me.

Lemme tell you, that kid's a great hugger. He puts all this strength into it and pulls you close like he doesn't want to drop you and just—damn. It's nice. No homo, sorta homo, don't care. Hugs are great. Especially when it means he's okay.

When he loosened, I pulled back and immediately grabbed at his face, tilting it up and scouring his features for any bruises, marks or blood. Clean, clean, chapped, puffy. He'd been crying. Not good. I didn't like that. Not at all. I grabbed his face a bit harder, trying to do a soul stare or something that would get him to spill.

His hands went up and grabbed my wrists, pulling my hands back and giving me that sweet little half-smirk of his. Adorable little shit. Just wanted to punch it off his face. And then cuddle him in apology.

Who am I kidding? Kid can probably take me. If he can catch me.

"I'm fine, Wally," he assured me and guided me back a little, "Just had a little breakdown. I'm good now."

He released my wrists and I sat back on my heels, hearing the guards start to walk in. I brushed it off, hoping they'd just leave me alone.

"You sure? Nothing broken? Bruised?" I swallowed a little smirk and started feeling at his stomach, immediately drawing a laugh from his lips.

He was ticklish. Extremely. And now he was giggling. Oh, that was precious.

"Stop! Stop! I-I'm good! N-N! Aha, no! I'm good!" he turned to his side and dropped onto the floor, curling in on himself, "Please stop! Ahaha!"

I showed mercy this once, grinning ear-to-ear despite as he slowly got back up. And then. I remembered. Tonight. Why I was really waiting for him at lunch. Tonight was when he looked through all the stuff under the mattress. Everything I'd gathered over my stay. The proof that… that I'm not crazy. I was going to ask him something. Gotta phrase it right. Especially with the guards rounding the couch.

"Patient, you better have a good explanation for this," a dark skinned man with black hair gave me a glare and I gave Dick a panicked look.

Stupid Mal. Stupid him with his stupid face and his stupid guard position. They were all stupid. Stupid guards.

"He's just making sure I'm alright," Dick became my hero in an instant, giving them a little smile before looking my way and searching my face.

He saw it. I was thinking. Thinking hard. Ah. Ahh… Um. Got it. This had to work. Deep breath, stick with me, Dicky boy.

I reached out and took his hands gently, pulling them to my chest and giving him a stare that I hoped said I'd be speaking in code.

"Look, I know… it must be hard. It's confusing here, new… a bit whelming. But it'll be better tonight. You just have to… lay down… find that little door in your head that's keeping you from peace… and _stuff the lock_. Then you can let all the peace in. Get what I'm saying?"

I was praying. Praying to the lunch God, to the upstairs one—hell, anyone who would listen. Please.

His smile twitched and I saw the brief little nod.

"Yeah, I get you," he gave me the slightest wink and I felt the heavens open up on me, "Going to let all the good in tonight and we're going to sort the mess."

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm so sorry that this is really late. School really gets in the way. I thought it'd be great being a sophomore, you know, pick on the incoming fishies, but the homework is terrible. Makes me want to beat my head in with a lead balloon. So my offer still stands for those who need to complain. I'm here for you. If anything, blame Night Vale. It's ruining my life with its perfection. I'll try getting another chapter up by Wednesday, but I can't promise anything. Ah. Right. Geronimo.**

* * *

Dick's POV:

I don't know if you've ever tried to stuff a lock and be discrete about it, but in case you haven't, let me tell you—it's _really, really _hard.

Stuffing the lock itself wouldn't be so hard if there weren't two cameras trained on me at the moment I was attempting it. That part would actually be pretty easy. I had everything I needed right there in my fist to accomplish it. Just a simple napkin colored black by marker, folded until it was small enough to be slid into the little slot where the deadbolt would regularly go. The guard would throw the lock in a quick little motion and if he were in a hurry, he wouldn't stay to check if it had completely shut.

How I knew the proper technique to stuff a lock was beyond me, seeing that I'd never been in the situation where I had needed to stuff one. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't ungrateful or anything. It was just kind of weird.

Alright, I could do this. If it had been important enough for Wally to tell me in front of guards _and _the cameras, something that could easily get him dragged off and drugged up again, it had to be for a really good reason. That meant I'd have to try anything to do this, while trying my hardest to not get caught. Just standing here with my forearm against the doorframe supporting my head probably wasn't a normal sight either, though. Anything I did at this point would be suspicious.

I sighed frustratedly, tightening my jaw and quietly cussing under my breath when all other words failed me.

"Come on, Grayson," I raised my occupied fist and pulled sharply at my hair, hoping it would dislodge an idea or two, "You can do this… you have to…"

Just as I was going to give up, a hand delicately touched to my farthest shoulder and I raised my head enough to glance over. I gave a relieved smile to see it was just Wally, tilting my head a bit as if to ask him what he was doing.

This guy and affection, I swear.

He gave me a little half-smirk and I followed his quick glances from one corner of the hall to the other. That wasn't quite the answer I was looking-… The cameras. Dammit, Grayson. He's blocking the cameras.

"You're a lifesaver," I flashed him a grin and worked fast, stuffing the napkin into the little slot and fitting it the best I could as fast as I could.

I noticed him peek down the other end of the hallway, awkwardly dropping his arm once I had placed the napkin. He returned the grin without even needing to see mine.

"That's the point," he tousled my hair once and turned on heel to retreat back into his room.

I followed suit and curled up on my mattress, hugging Zitka to my chest and waiting for the guards to make their rounds.

* * *

I can't tell you how long I laid there, mostly because I wasn't counting. All I was doing was lying there, feeling the stack of pictures and papers just under my thigh and hoping my heart wasn't thundering as loud as I thought it was. At its current volume, I was quite nearly convinced that people beyond the woods outside would be hearing it and calling the police out of alarm any second now.

At some point, I tried going over a few songs in my head to pass the time. I'd get the choruses messed up and tumble over the words in my excitement though, getting nowhere but to more frustration.

How long did it take to walk down a hallway and throw some locks?

I turned over and buried my face in Zitka's fake fabric with an impatient groan, tapping my fingers against the mattress when I finally heard it. The click of the lock. Finally. I waited another five counts, all the Mississippi's I could bear, before getting up and hiding Zitka on the corner of my bed just beneath the pillow. I knelt to the ground beside my mattress and carefully retrieved all of the papers and pictures that I could feel in the flickering light of the bulb hanging above my head until the stack was spaced out just under the bed.

If they hadn't heard my heart before, they definitely could now. My stomach churned painfully, hands relating it with the sudden shake to run them through.

This could go two ways. Either it would all be a cruel, sick joke Wally was playing on me and all the notes would say really stupid stuff to make fun of me or it would be a painful relief to know that I'm not actually insane, full of proof that something's completely off. Whichever wound up happening, I was honestly afraid to open up any of the notes.

And then there was that Wally had wanted me to stuff the lock. That would mean he intended to come in here at some point. He might be coming in to laugh at all this hope that I had built up or to help explain what all I'm looking at. What if the cameras saw him?

It was time to stop thinking. All that was going to do was make things at least ten times worse. I just needed to start doing and at least see where it takes me. Worst case scenario, I wind up with a crushed ego, right?

I took a deep breath and looked over the papers in the dim lighting, picking up the one closest to me and opening it as quietly as I could.

**Time here works different. I started counting with movies. Gone with the Wind is in the cabinet and about 4 hours? Pretty close? In a regular day, I could watch that 4 times in a row, assuming our day is 9am to 9pm. Each 'day' here is only 2 Gone with the Wind's. For whatever reason, they've cut our days in half. That means there's something off with the sky as well. The sun works on a regular schedule, but much faster than it should. **

I stared at it for a long moment, rereading it a few times before it set in. Was Gone with the Wind really that long? . Right. Okay. I'd have to test it as well, but it would make sense. I remember not being able to sleep the first day mostly because I hadn't been tired. It would definitely make sense. It's also a better reason for their removing of the clocks.

Folding the note up again, I hid it back under the sheets and turned my eyes back over the rest of the notes. Now I was a little scared. At least it wasn't a sick joke on me so far.

I picked up another note, one that was a little smaller, and unfolded it next.

**Conner broke a part of the window today on accident when he tripped over one of my shoes. Dude must be made of metal or something. Didn't break the whole thing, but it chipped a corner and I got to look outside. There isn't a forest. There aren't any trees. There's just concrete out there. An empty lot. Abandoned buildings and an empty lot. A moving sign said it was April 2****nd****. I don't know where we are, but the woods are just a computer generated track. I would be scared, but that means that Zatanna could still be alive. **

That had to be a joke. It had to be. There was… there was no… That just wasn't possible. The outside was a forest. A forest with trees and leaves and nothing else. It couldn't be anything other than that. It... It couldn't… I didn't want to believe it. I wasn't going to. No. This was a joke. Haha, not funny, stop it. A girl was dead. That wasn't something to joke about.

But what if. What if it really was all just a computer image? I had never seen any animals, or the trees move from the wind or anything. And it was kind of weird to have an asylum this far out in a forest…

Where was I? Where was I really? And why would they go to this much trouble to keep us from knowing where we really were? Was it really that big of a deal?

I took a deep breath and hid the note away, taking a moment to let the words sink in. A fake outside and half-days. Next I was going to read that the food is actually blended people. As I reached for the next note, I quickly became aware that the thought was possible so I put that one down and went for a different one. A quick glance over it assured me that it wasn't about food.

**I asked about the day, why it was only 6 hours, and the nurses took me away to a room with a big gray door and an iron latch that only opens from the outside. I was crying when I went in. The last thing I remember about it was laughing. I was crying from fear and then I was laughing, as if nothing was wrong Whatever's behind that door had me laughing through my tears and it scares me. I don't want to go back there again. **

The second I read this, my mind immediately went to the nurses rushing Wally away after he had mentioned having met me somewhere on the outside. Could that be where he had gone? Some weird room? Why would he laugh though..? My head spun with the possibilities. Whatever it was left him looking like half-there. He had obviously gone back there again. If it scared him…

My heart leapt to my throat as I heard the door give a faint scrape and I rushed to shove everything under the bed. Just as I was about to hide the current note in my pocket, I looked up to see Wally standing in front of the now closed door with a nervous smile on his lips.

"Scare you?" he teased, smile raising into a little smirk.

I glared at him, heart slowly returning to its original position before I slowly started pulling all the notes back out.

"To death and then some. You owe me," I frowned at him, lightening my grip on the paper and gesturing for him to take a seat beside me.

He easily did, the apology flashing louder through his features than he'd ever be able to say. I didn't want him apologizing though, so that made it a lot easier.

"Alright, right to it. The room the nurses take you to, the one with the big gray door…?" I handed him the note, noting almost instantly how he tensed up at the mention.

"You've read the half-day thing already, right?" he started softly, eyes scanning the note, so my nod went undetected.

I had to vocalize it, impatiently pressing my fingers into my thighs. He stole my nod and imitated it with an ironic smile.

"And the one about the actual outside," I added, making him smile a bit more sorely. "It's almost… It's really hard to believe. Might help if you start from the beginning."

"Yeah… so… the uh…" he stopped for a moment and crossed his legs, taking a deep breath, "It's a pretty long story…"

A part of me wanted to lighten the mood by teasing him for looking this nervous, but I wasn't too far from it either. The best I could do was give him a small, comforting smile.

"Then you better start talking."

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	18. Chapter 18

**See the bottom of my profile as to why I was gone for so long. **

**I know what this is. Bulletproof loneliness at best.**

* * *

Dick's POV

After the invitation, Wally took on what seemed like a vow of silence as he swept all of the relevant thoughts up into the part of his brain that went to what passed through his lips. I expected so and I assumed we'd have all night for this, although I was kind of worried about how he would get back to his room without the guards noticing.

Actually, on that note, I was worried about how he got into _my _room without the guards noticing.

I tried not to really think on it though, just scooting over to let him sit next to me with his back up against the metal of the bed frame. He stared up at the ceiling for inspiration—or maybe just to stare, I still haven't really figured him out yet—for so long a time that I began to grow impatient. I eventually got up and snatched Zitka back from her hiding place and sat her on my lap, playing with the weathering trim around her left ear.

During my time here, I've noticed that it's the softest part even though it's the most ragged. The stuffing's all fallen out by now and the fabric's peeling out so you can see the original white weave beneath, but it somehow manages to be softer than the rest of the gray fibers that make up her fur.

With my one free hand, I took to leafing through the rest of the notes and photos piled around in front of us, unfolding what I could.

One paper mentioned what I had seen with Artemis and Jade from the cafeteria. He seemed to think this Jade girl had been a key part in the bad half of our little queen's past, but I hadn't thought so. There had been some thin stretched happiness behind the little attack. That could just be me trying to romanticize everything around me, but I've seen a face like that before. Raya, for example, after my parents fell. She thought I had fallen too and when she saw I hadn't—well, let's just say I found out it's possible for hugs to bruise.

Another sketched out loosely what the pills looked like that he had to take. Even with it being a quickly scrawled sketch and viewing it in this dim of light, I somehow knew the brand and scientific name for each of them. There were only three types, but he seemed to think the capsule they gave him was a fourth. Brief description to the side of me assured me it was just a way to up the dosage discretely. They were your basic ADHD medications with an anxiety pill thrown in. A briefly sketched one with the notice 'from memory, they stopped giving this one' I had to squint at it, but it reminded me of something taken by PTSD sufferers to help control tremors.

I glanced over at him and watched his hands on his knees for a second before I saw it. Now, I know that no one sits _completely _still. That's basically impossibly, factoring out some obvious exceptions. This guy though… he was shaking all over. I don't even think he noticed it. It was like… well... like he was vibrating. It wasn't from fear because he wasn't _shaking_. His skin was. God, that sounds insane, but I swear, I know the difference.

"You got something to say 'fore I start?"

The new voice in my head that wasn't my thoughts honestly gave my heart a jump until I realized it was Wally. I looked over at him, trying to make sense of the words before I actually understood what he was asking. Well, yes, indeed I did.

I was probably pretty awkward in catching him up on what I had noticed; Conner's superhuman strength, how there were only three wards, the deal with Bruce and his sons, the one time he had mentioned meeting me outside of the asylum (he paused at this one, face hardening for a moment), that he had known my middle name somehow (it seemed to trigger an idea in his eyes and he just gave a silent nod), how Megan had known that I'd stolen the "fake" photo and her eyes going all over white before insisting the camera was off and finishing off with Kaldur having gills.

I showed him the picture of Bruce's sons that I had stolen—apparently the middle one kind of looked like me, I don't see it—and ended up having to repeatedly confirm that I wasn't kidding about Kaldur actually being an aqua lad.

After breaking his vow of silence, Wally seemed to have grown a few decades with how his features bunched and every little dribble of happiness was dabbed from his lips by some unseen force. He looked a broken kind of miserable, but it was hidden behind a clear coating of a dark sort of fear. An easier way to say it I guess… would be… well… he had the face of a teenager, but he had the eyes of a survivor.

I expected a hell of a story.

"I'm not actually sure how to start this. I mean… obviously, I'm supposed to start at the beginning, but I don't _remember _the beginning. I just… I don't remember living my past. It's all there, written in my head like I read it from a book, but I don't think I did any of it. The first _actual _thing I remember doing for myself was waking up in my room here. I knew my name, and that was about it. When they came by to give me my pills, I tried running away. Got about as far as the end of the hall before they jabbed me. Woke up in John's office downstairs and he was catching me up on what my past was supposed to be.

"You know, killed my uncle and all. Total bull. I knew I hadn't killed him. I remembered that much. When I got out, I met the others and they all seemed… well… _insane_. I didn't fit. When I noticed the days were cut in half, I asked one of the uniformed nurses about it. He got these big eyes and signaled to some other nurse and they both pounced on me. I uh… honestly thought they were going to kill me, so I panicked and… well, I might've cried a bit. It got worse when they wouldn't say where we were going or what they were going to do. It was like they were purposely avoiding talking to me.

"By the time we got to the gray door, I was hysterical. Clawing, kicking, screaming, biting—I was willing to do anything to not go into the room. Just before they tossed me in… the one with green eyes… he snickered almost and said, 'Riddle me this'. His partner hit him before he could say anything, but I swear, I recognized him for a second. And then I hit the floor inside hard and I was laughing. I was still terrified, crying and all that, but I was laughing like I was the happiest person alive.

"Next thing I know, I'm awake in my room with all these memories of having killed my uncle. I believed them at first, you know. I broke my mirror because my reflection disgusted me. I didn't want to talk to the others, I couldn't sleep—and maybe a week in, that's when I realized something was up. I didn't cry when I first got here. I didn't remember mourning his death. Actually, all I remembered was that he had died in a chemical explosion and it was my fault. I don't remember any news stories on it or a funeral. There wasn't anything upstairs about me needing to be sent to an asylum or something like that. It was a little too weird.

"I asked the others about the gray door and if they remembered anything about it, but they all looked at me like I actually belonged here. I've seen a few of them get dragged off to it, though. It's like they just… won't remember it. Or they won't talk about it. I understand why—I mean, the second I started mentioning it, they dragged me off again. And then… Zatanna showed up. Pretty black hair, big blue eyes—so full of _life. She_ knew she didn't belong here and… she understood, so I decided to… help her escape. I knew I couldn't make it out of here, didn't really deserve to, but I wanted to get her back home.

"I talked to the others and we all formed a plan to get her out. I stole a map from John's office and shared it with the others in private and with notes, we all discussed the plan. The night came and… I swear…. It started out perfect. We all made as big of a distraction as we could. While the guards frantically messed with the flooding in Kaldur's room and the fires in Megan's, we all ran out to HQ to see if she had made it… and… a… and uh… we… that's when… all we could do… was… watch. I j… _I felt so useless_."

At that, Wally's voice broke and he grew painfully silent aside from the occasional sniffle that was becoming a bit more common with each passing second. Having been silent this whole time, it didn't feel right trying to say anything, so I offered him Zitka. It took him a second to notice her and another to make sure I wasn't just being nice before he cradled her up in his arms and squeezed her tight. I just sat and watched quietly as he broke, biting the inside of my cheek in frustration. There had to be something I could do.

"You didn't know," I murmured softly, touching a hand to his shoulder and retracting it quickly when he flinched, "You just wanted to help…"

His knuckles were white where they were tucked in against Zitka's stomach. I guess I was a little useless here too. Sympathy obviously wasn't the way to go. I needed to step it up.

"Trust me, I understand what it's like," I decided to go for empathy, bracing myself before bringing it up, "to watch someone die and be helpless to stop it. When my parents fell, all I could do was stare. I could've insisted on putting the net up or asking for the wires to be checked before the show, but I didn't, so I had to watch my only family die in front of me. I know you're blaming yourself for it, but that'll only keep it fresh in your mind. You just have to think past it. Alright?"

Wally swallowed hard, managing a small sniffle before nodding roughly into Zitka. He rubbed his face in her fur to dry off what I assumed were just tears before half-heartedly offering her back, face still wet.

"Hold onto her as long as you need to," I assured him, running a hand through my hair and tugging sharp as it passed out of sight.

A nice little anchor on reality—they were dead. The Flying Graysons were now the Fallen Graysons. No use crying over it now. I had bigger things to deal with.

"Just try to keep going, alright?"

The redhead nodded his head and I lay back against the bed again, folding my arms around my stomach and going back to listening.

"I'll… yeah. I'm sorry about your parents, really. I'll get to them later, actually. In the—ah, I'll just, alright. After that, the nurses just said that Zatanna had gotten better and that they released her. None of us would speak to each other for a long time. That's what eventually led to the broken window. Conner was moving one of the chairs over so he could sit by Megan, try to patch things over, and he tripped. The chair chipped a part of the window out just big enough for us to see out of. When I saw him staring, I went over because, let's face it, the silence was killing me and I'd rather not let curiosity kill me first.

"That's when… well… it was… dark. Dark concrete, dark buildings, smoggy sky, broken cars, broken windows—hell, it was more miserable out there than we were. And off in the distance, far back, was a little board that showed some announcements about some sales and then the date. I was horrified. I mean, the windows were always showing us this big forest and the sun seemed to move to the right time and the weather would change… it _seemed _real! I had been too afraid to even think that it might mean Zatanna was okay.

"The nurses all ran in and escorted us away, but I went this time because I was too shocked to think of anything else. I started wondering what else was fake; what else they had made up. I started investigating, and then you showed up and I _knew _you."

He stopped there, holding Zitka even tighter for a moment before setting her in my lap and crawling so he was sitting in front of me now, hands clenched on his thighs.

"It's going to sound crazy, I know, but I _do _know you. It's a different kind of memory than the one I have about my uncle's death. I remember every little detail, from where we were to what we were wearing. It was you and me and we were somewhere called 'Happy Harbor', sitting on the top of this really big mountain because you thought it was the safest place. It was… well, my memory's calling it the real us, and you were shivering because you left your hoodie inside. I offered to go back, but you told me 'this' couldn't wait.

"When we sat down, god, you looked _terrified_. Kept playing with your elbow like you always did when you were nervous, and you took your shades off. I made a big deal about it because you never took your shades off apparently, but I was actually pretty happy. Your eyes looked a lot cooler than I thought. Just… _blue_. Sorry, that's kind of lame… but… well… we were sitting there and you looked at your knees and awkwardly said, 'Dick'. I thought you were insulting me, so I was about to shoot some good ones off before you continued.

"'Short for Richard John Grayson', and you got the biggest grin on your face. It took me a second to realize it was your name. When I… When I figured it out… I couldn't stop smiling. I wanted to hug you, punch you, kick you off the cliff—I was just so happy and you started laughing at me. I got all sarcastic with a, 'Pleased to meet you' and that's when you told me everything. Growing up at the circus, the grand Jack Haley, your parents and their fall… you even mentioned a new family. Some billionaire guy adopted you. I remember calling you Orphan Annie for a while after that. _I _thought it was hilarious. You punched me."

I sat there quietly, staring at him hard to try and figure all that out. Happy Harbor had struck a few chords in the back of my mind, to be honest… and… and he knew about Jack… I set a hand to the side of my head to make sure nothing left me, focusing as hard as I could. Something had to make sense here. How he remembered all this… we had never met before here, so how could he know that? Why did I remember Happy Harbor? Why _couldn't _I remember?

And an adoption… I don't think I ever was adopted. I didn't remember it at least. I didn't remember a lot though. It was like he said: everything _I _remembered, aside from my parents' death, was as if I had just read it out of a book. _I _didn't actually remember that orphanage. I didn't remember anything other than that I had been there. I couldn't tell you what it looked like or anyone who had been there. All the details were scraped away and I was left with alphabet blocks.

"Weirdest thing," I breathed softly, staring down at my knees for answers I knew I wouldn't find.

The redhead cleared his throat though and I was back at attention, noting the little glint in his eye.

"That's not it though. I mean… I… I have this gift," he started slow.

He never got to finish. At that moment, the door was opened and a man in blue looked down at us with the slightest of a 'tsk'. My heart jumped out of my throat and made a break for it, right along with Wally. I never saw him run, but he must've made it past the nurse from the way the man let a curse slip.

"_You're _not escaping me," he snarled at me when I got to my feet and tried my own hand at escaping.

That's not to say I didn't barrel towards him with the intention of sending him out of the way, but he wasn't alone. A partner stepped up just before I could break out of his grip and they both took my arms in their own.

"No!" I screamed, desperately kicking at them, wrenching until I was sure my shoulders were out of socket to try and get out of their grip.

They weren't necessarily strong alone, but together, I was only human. I could delay them and scream as loud as I could, but I couldn't escape. They were going to take me to the gray door that they take Wally to when he notices things. I was petrified.

"P-Please, no! No! I'll do anything! Please!" I sobbed, tears blurring my vision of them as I kicked and clawed at what I could reach of them, "Don't take me there! Please! Please!"

They just walked faster, dragging me right along with them no matter how loud I screamed. It was hopeless. They were going to take me in there. I had no idea what was going to happen there. They could cut me open. They could gas me. I could be stuffed into a body bag and left to suffocate. They could freeze me, burn me, torture me, kill me—I'm not ashamed to say I was crying. In fact, I wasn't ashamed at all. I was terrified.

"Someone," I gasped out, trembling now as I caught side of a reflective door near the end of the hall, "Help! Help me, please!"

But I knew help wasn't going to come. The only thing coming was more tears, and the laughter. A sob ripped up from my chest and I gave each struggle my all, now half-heartedly, up until I could see my own sobbing reflection in the door. The latch was thrown and in I went. I was still sobbing, not quite laughing yet, as I staggered to my feet.

The door shut tight behind me and I immediately noticed the change in the air. It was lighter in here, as if it were helium, and I began fearing they were suffocating me before I took a look around. My heart stopped in my chest at what I saw. As quick as I could, I grabbed a thin scalpel looking thing from the table and lifted my shirt. The second I touched the tip to my skin, I started laughing, no matter how bad it stung. The tears were hitting the floor at a quick pace, but I just wanted to laugh and laugh.

I wrote as fast as I could, fighting the laughter until it was too much to handle.

Z este în viață.

Ea este atât de viu.

Și îmi pare rău.

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**-F.J. III**


	19. Chapter 19

**I'm sorry in advance for all typos. I'm reduced to Notepad and as you know, there's no spell check on this damn thing. I do believe this chapter will be longer, so I hope it'll help you forgive my absence. It's hard to update WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE A COMPUTER. Fuck. Alright, here goes.**

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Dick's POV:

When we were younger, there was always the unspoken "easy" solution to all of our problems: run away and join the circus. My mom first mentioned it to me when I cried after dad killed my dog.

"If you're just going to bitch your way through life, why don't you just join the circus?"

I had been five. Ever since then, every night, that was the only thing I had wanted to do. My teachers used to lend me recorded tapes of Cirque de Soleil and I'd watch them all night, practicing the moves of the trapeze artists the best I could on my little twin-sized bed. Some nights dad would come in and swat at me until I had stopped flipping and crying. Most nights he could knock me out with two or three hits.

"This ain't the circus, boy," the whiskey would tell me, using his voice as a medium.

There wasn't a night I didn't wish it was.

The bruises were dark and ugly, always in places I had a hard time hiding. After Child Services was called the first time, mom made me start wearing long sleeves and jeans all the time- even in summer. I passed out from heat exhaustion more than once. They never took me to the hospital though. Dad said it was a waste of money.

I didn't realize there was anything wrong until I was about ten. I was telling the others in my book group about the time dad broke my arm when he was trying to get me up- "took a broken bone to get this heavy sleeper up"- and they all looked appalled. Of course I didn't go to the hospital; mom and dad needed that money for the bills. We just set it and hoped. On the bright side, I was double jointed in that arm for a while.

Child Services came again and I told them everything. My arm was put in a proper cast and Dad had to join AA. Easier times back then. Every time he came home from the meetings, the whiskey would hurt me again. Broke a rib the first night. I didn't want to be hit for having to go to the hospital, though, so I kept it hidden for a few months. I was 12. At this point, I knew something was wrong and I couldn't take it.

The heavens seemed to hear the prayers I had given up on and one day, Haley's Circus came to town. It just happened to set up a few blocks down from the hospital. This was my chance to escape. My only chance to get away.

There was one problem though: my dad. He'd never let his favorite little punching bag get away. In my head, there was only one solution.

I waited until about 2 in the morning, pulling my hair and doing my best to will myself into not chickening out. There was a lot of crying. I managed. Snuck out into the living room and took the gun from the safe in the coat closet. Checked that it had bullets. After triple checking, I went to my parents' room. Both were fast asleep.

As I stood there with the shotgun, I just kept thinking how unfair it was to punish them like this, when they weren't hurting me. It obviously didn't stop me.

It was surprisingly easy to raise the barrel towards my father's heart, but it was even easier to squeeze the trigger. I just... curled my finger. The only pain I felt after my dad gave a jerk and fell still was the one in my wrist from the kick of the gun. By this point, I was as dead on the inside as dad was on the outside. I shot the wall, too. Then the window. The foot of the bed received a bullet too, but this one was just to make sure mom got up.

When she sat up, I was already out of the room, standing by the door and waiting out the worst of her scrams. Blood-curdling screams. I always thought they were just the stuff of horror movies, made up for emphasis. No. My mom's scream turned my blood to rotten milk. I would've been a terrible vampire snack right there. I only moved when I heard the dialing of the phone and her shaking voice calling out my dad's name.

"John... John... John!"

She never once came to check on me. It wasn't like I expected her to, but it was still a little selfish. Even now, looking back, I know that I should've shot her as well.. Someone had to call the cops, I know, but I could've done it before bashing my head in with the butt of the shotgun and passing out.

According to the doctors, I had been in the hospital for a little over three days. Mom hadn't signed me in. She hadn't checked on me. She hadn't been there, _wasn't_ there. And that was beyond perfect.

When asked, I told the police that a man had knocked at our door, tall with dark hair, and that he had hit me with his gun the second I had opened the door. That was all I remembered, I insisted before adding a few tears for my dead father for emphasis. I was still just as dead as my dad on the inside.

When the hospital released me, I ran down to the circus where a nice man named Jack offered me sympathy for my recent loss. He was the ringleader, as luck would have it, Jack Haley. I showed him the bruises and I was taken into the circus family almost instantly. They were everything I had ever wanted in a real family: loving, supportive, nice, gentle- they made me feel like I had purpose. A few months of training later and I had teamed up with a Romanian Trapeze act, the Flying Arcos, who quickly put my last name in the title instead.

"Grayson... it... good ring, da?" Donny explained in the best English he could manage.

He dyed my hair to match theirs, a dark black, fit me for a costume, gave me a bed and even took up calling me Dicky. It was my first nickname besides 'bastard' and 'brat'. His wife, Cindi, taught me some of the basic Romanian dialect and two years later, I was fluent. I rarely spoke English, if given the choice. Cindi, Donny and their son Marc were my new family. John and Mary were just distant memories, like characters in a story I had read long ago.

My good times didn't last long.

One night, after a good show, the police approached me asking about the night I 'ran away'. I explained that my mom hadn't even checked me into the hospital, never looked in on me... I manged. But then they said my fingerprints were on the gun. When I said I had fought back, they brought up my old statement on how I had been knocked out upon opening the door. My perfect escape was falling apart around me.

I admitted to it. Everything. The abuse, broken ribs, broken arm, bruising, heat exhaustion, my hospitalizations and the lack thereof, and ended with the neglect.

"I just wanted a family that would love me"

The jury decided all the years of abuse and trauma had dulled my ability to tell right from wrong and I hadn't known any better. I'd known better, but they'd eat me in prison. Or something like that. An asylum sounded much safer. Comfier. I went with the insanity plea, and that's how I ended up here.

* * *

"And you say you just woke up with your memories returned?" Bruce leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raising curiously.

I stared down at my knees and gave a little nod.

"Da. I must have suppressed it and made up other memories to forget the real ones."

I unconsciously rubbed at my ribs, my intention being to feel for the fracture. I tensed almost instantly, a flash of pain coming with the touch instead. I guess it hadn't healed as well as I'd hoped.

"This is some great progress, Dick. Although I have some contradicting statements to work out, we can save that for tomorrow."

Taking that as my cue to leave, I got up and walked to the door, shutting it quietly behind me. I watched the floor as I walked, heart heavy in my chest, right up until a hand touched to my shoulder. Almost on instinct, I flinched and jerked back, the chains on my heart loosening just enough for it to leap into my throat. I only untensed as a warm chuckle sounded, opening one of my eyes from its squint to see Clark grinning at me.

"Hey, soldier," he teased, pulling his hand back.

His face paled a bit in no time though, his stare making me want to curl up in a little ball and die. Why was he staring? Couldn't he just... stop? Soon?

"You're bleeding," he murmured and I looked down to where he was staring.

A bloodstain about the size of my fist, maybe bigger, was drying just above my hip. The center was still a fresh sort of scarlet, but the edges were a brownish black. I didn't think twice of it. Blood was normal, especially on me.

"Hm. I guess I am," I shrugged, turning to keep on down the hall.

He grabbed my arm again and I flinched just as hard.

"Are you alright?" he stressed, still holding onto my arm.

I didn't like the contact.

"I'm still moving, aren't I?"

Maybe sarcasm wasn't the way to go... or was that sass? Whatever tone that was. This guy could crush me easy.

"Let's get you a new shirt... maybe stop by the nurse, too. Come on."

He started pulling me after him, no matter how much I struggled, so I gave in and let myself be dragged through the twisted hallways until he stopped me outside of a gray door marked with a simple 'Nurse' plaque.

"I'm going to get you a shirt. Just head right in," Clark encouraged before quietly jogging back down the hall.

I wanted to go after him, but I was still set on the thought that he'd crush me, so I opened the door and walked inside. It reminded me of a public school's nurse's office, dingy and unprofessional... but more importantly, empty. My attention went to a cracked door in the corner with light shining through. Maybe the nurse had gone out for a smoke. I'd have to go get them in that case.

Before heading out, I took a look under my shirt, peeling the fabric from my blood. I'd been cut, that much was clear. The blood was crusted heavily over the wounds, but I couldn't help but notice how they looked kinda like words. That was weird. I wondered what happened.

I pulled my shirt back down and stepped outside, looking around for anyone who could be a nurse. There was no one. It was empty. The buildings were concrete and abandoned; the road was broken with weeds every other inch. I had to admit I liked the graffiti though. There was this cool looking clown guy and something about a bat.

"Are you okay?"

The voice genuinely surprised me and I looked up to see a man maybe fifty feet off.

"You're bleeding," he added when I didn't respond.

I looked down at my shirt again, giving a frown.

"I was cut. It's alright though; the asylum's got a nurse," I assured him, trying to see around the corner in case the nurse was over there.

The man stared harder. It was worse than being directly touched.

"Kid, you just came out of a warehouse."

I turned around and looked, checking for myself.

"Wouldn't you know," I mused, pursing my lips in thought, "What about that? Well, I'll be going now. See you!"

It probably looked like a warehouse because renovations hadn't been finished. There was no other explanation.

As I stepped inside, I noticed he was on his phone. Maybe he needed a ride home. I needed one too. I should've asked him. I never had time, though. Once I stepped back in, the nurse came in through the door Clark had led me to.

"Oh," she sounded surprised to see me, "What d'ya want, twerp?"

She had a thick Jersey-like accent and looked like something straight out of a porno. Blonde pigtails, nurse hat, the little white dress... she definitely looked the part.

"I'm bleeding," I gestured to my stomach, adding that Clark sent me when she didn't seem to care.

With an annoyed sigh, she immediately went to the phone, tossing me a sour frown before dialing a familiar number from the way she hummed out the frequencies.

"Hiya, puddin'. Got a bleedin' brat up here... yeah, yeah. G'bye, Mistah Jay," she gave a little sweet giggle at that, blowing an obnoxious kiss into the phone just as she hung up.

The giggle washed away in a second at the sight of me.

"Right. Sink in the back," she jerked her head in the direction, giving a tilt of her head before leaving the room.

I liked this nurse. No touching, no staring... just blunt, straight for it. I wished she would've looked at the wound to see if I was okay, but I was sure I was. Dad had given me deeper cuts on his better days. I'd be light headed and blurry-eyed if I were really hurt.

As if I were back at my old house, I hiked my shirt up over my head and tossed it to the floor, crossing back to the sink she had gestured to and starting the water. Cold water numbed the pain, but warm water got the blood off easier. Wetting the edge of a paper towel, I scraped off the drying blood and gently dabbed at what was fresher, putting pressure and counting under my breath before lifting it. There were definitely real words there now. Romanian, too. I had to squint, but it didn't take long to translate.

_KF- ea viața_

It was a really bad translation, sloppily done, but it was easy: "KF- she lives".

Alright, so I carved a message to Wally on my stomach. ...Why? Why would I do that? He hates me. Why on earth... and... who's 'she'? Maybe I was rusty and it said something else... maybe it was 'KF was here' done wrong? Oh well. I gave a shrug, sorely rubbing the cut, before walking out at hearing the door open. Clark offered me the clean shirt, blue instead of the regular white, so I was beyond happy on the walk back to common room.

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	20. Chapter 20

**If this chapter ends up going the way I wrote the outline, you should be kicking at the air by the end of this. It'll be a little angsty, but I'll lighten it up the best I can. And if you just happen to be reading this, tell me in a review (or PM or telekinetic message) how much longer you want this. I've got enough material left to go up into 50-60 chapters if I tried, but if it seems dragged out, I can cut that out and get to the climax a lot faster. That being said, Allons-y!**

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Dick's POV:

As much as I liked Clark- try not to slip on all that sarcasm as you keep up- I had to admit that he wasn't too bad of a story teller. Whether it was the silence or just the need to hear himself talk, he spent the five minute walk telling me about the time all of the staff stayed after hours and drank themselves off their feet. There were some good bits and pieces in there, but my personal favorite was definitely the bit about Bruce. Apparently, he had gotten a dark blanket and had managed to get on top of one of the cabinets in the staff break room where he sat all night, calling out, "I am the night!" before making bat-like poses.

Clark gave a pretty spot-on impression of Bruce as he was telling me, gravelly with a hard edge, so imagining his impression as what a drunk Bruce sounded like... god, I lost it.

My only real contributions to the conversation were softly spoken, "Yeah"s and muffled laughter, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he actually seemed to appreciate it.

Just before we got out to the couches where the others were, he smiled and offered a smirk, "Careful, kid. Keep it up and I might end up liking you."

"I'll keep that in mind," I returned the smirk and awkwardly shuffled into the living space, doing a quick perimeter check.

Artemis was on the floor in front of the TV in Wally's place, on her stomach with her chin in her hands. In _her _regular spot was Kaldur, kicked back with his long legs stretched out across the green fabric. The others were nowhere to be seen, their absence made up with the sound of the movie. Using that same sound as cover, I snuck up onto my couch and sat on the far cushion, drawing my knees in so my toes just barely touched the line in the cushions.

I tried to patch in the part of the movie I had missed, but all I could tell from this point was that the guy was eating people and that he had a thing for his aunt/step-mom lady. The more I watched, the more I was fine with him eating his victims than the thought of him being with this lady. I needed to get my morals together. Then again, I did shoot my father. At least I didn't cut out his cheeks and eat them. They would've tasted like tobacco. Oh god. A little puke there. Deep breath.

As the movie went on, I could tell Artemis was a big fan. She was quoting right along through tears she was biting back, grabbing for the actors as they spoke before hiding her face. It was confirmed when she started bawling out her eyes at a part I didn't understand until I picked the pieces out through her sobs.

The cannibal guy had gone to this house in the woods and he'd found this rusted little bath tub with some bones in them. Apparently, it was his little sister's body. It definitely made more sense as he buried the bath tub and said out a farewell to a "Mischa". Even Kaldur had a little sniffle going on. I tried to look sad with them, but I had obviously missed something big. I think little Mischa was eaten, but it was hard to understand whatever was murmured behind the blonde's hands. Maybe the guy ate her. That would be even more messed up than him getting with his step-mom/aunt lady. Maybe. Depends how old they both are.

I tried working it out myself with nothing to go on for the skeleton, up until I heard different sets of footsteps behind me. Instinctively, I tensed and looked over my shoulder. A quick look and I automatically scrambled back for the other couch cushion, drawing myself in even tighter. I was even tempted to make a dive for the floor and take a seat by Artemis, but I didn't want to get in Wally's way. He was fast. And at least dad had alcohol to blame most days.

Megan started a greeting, Conner's hand in hers, but she cut it short when Artemis waved her hand to silence her. The redhead understood well enough, giving a sheepish smile and taking a spot on the couch between mine and Kaldur's with Conner sticking close. He offered me a stiff smile, his best version of a greeting, and I couldn't help but return it. For as awkward of a smile as it was, it was adorable on him. He always seemed awkward in his own skin to me.

My attention had been all on them, so when I turned to find Wally maybe five feet off, I jumped and shrunk back to my corner. There was something different about him right now, something in his expression, but I didn't want to place it.

"Dick?"

My own name didn't process to me for a good while seeing how gentle it was said, but when it did, I looked up in almost horror at the speaker. Wally's eyes were wide with genuine concern, his eyebrows tented and his frown about as deep as I thought his hatred ran for me. I didn't understand, and I didn't like it.

"Are you okay?" he continued just as gently when I met his eye for a brief second, going to touch my shoulder.

I didn't want him touching me. The bruises never got any prettier. Without giving a second thought, I bailed off the couch and landed on my side, somersaulting to the point I was sitting even with Artemis' bare feet. My arm immediately flung around my stomach at the spike of pain on my hip, but I tried to hide it. The redhead gave an exhausted sort of sigh and scooted to the farther cushion so he was equal with me but back a good few feet. I'd prefer him to be a good few miles away, maybe continents, but this was better than nothing.

"Please, I-," he started out, raking his hair back with a shaking hand.

Why had he asked if I was okay? He didn't hurt me yesterday. That was all earlier this week, and I'd already gotten threatened to keep me from 'squealing' about it. That was the thing: Wally didn't care unless it was about himself. What if this _was _about him though? What had he... Ah...

And then it hit me. Actually, I hit it. My hip. I immediately remembered the words carved there and things started to click. What if he had written the words? Carved me with whatever that was, whatever was making me bleed through what I only know as my second shirt? My heart dropped and I slowly started crawling backwards away from him. It almost seemed to break his heart. That message must've been really important then. Code, maybe? Something he needed to remember? Who needed paper if I was around, eh?

I wasn't going to let him touch me again. I needed all this to heal up first. Those emerald eyes almost seemed to glaze over with tears. Whatever act he was playing, I wasn't going to fall for it. Not this time.

"Dick," his voice gave way quickly, my name coming out as nothing but a 'dahh'.

Not this time. Holding his eyes, I made up my own countdown. On five. He blinked once. Four. Two in a row this time, as he slowly got up. Three, two. Another as his head tilted. _One_.

I pushed myself to my feet and took off running as fast as I possibly could. There was no thought in where I was going, no way to trace me. I just ran, taking every turn that I possibly could. My feet pounded against the linoleum hard enough that I swore they were bruising, but I wasn't going to let him catch me. I wasn't going to let anyone catch me.

"Dick!" his voice echoed down the hallways, far enough back that I felt a little secure with my pace.

This meant I had time to think. There weren't enough hallways in this place to keep running forever. He'd get clever and catch me before long. I needed somewhere to hide that I could outsmart him and just maybe level the playing fields. Somewhere with heights, something I was good with, and a good way to block out his senses.

The locker room.

I almost grinned, just barely making my turn as I booked it down the carpeting, little-by-little tossing my socks until I was barefoot and skidding across the slick off-white surface of the locker room floor. I should've kept my socks on. This was gross. There wasn't time to waste with thinking, though, so I ran fast. Latching the air vents and locking the exit that led to the cafeteria, I ran by and switched every shower head on to its hottest temperature. Trying my best not to hover- those damn things were scalding- I scampered back to the far edge of the lockers and got a good toe hold on the handle, lifting myself to the very top up by the ceiling tiles.

Getting as secure as I could, I locked my knees in and pressed up hard on one of the ceiling tiles. It protested with a pitiful squeak, but it gave way and moved up and out of the way after a few seconds. I rose to my feet at this point, peeking my head all ways to make sure there weren't any serial killers or frogs hiding there. I didn't find those, but I did find a curious little yellow pouch though, recognizing it as soon as I brought it down. When the door gave a creak, I was quick to hop up after the ceiling tile, holding my breath.

"Please, you have to listen to me!" Wally shouted above the scream of the showers.

"Do I? Do I _really_?" I griped under my breath, rolling my eyes in annoyance.

I ignored his footsteps and lightly pushed the ceiling tile so it'd look in place amidst the steam, turning my attention to the pouch in my hands. I unfolded it easily and it expanded into a belt with small pouches all throughout and a circular clasp. I recognized it easily, giving a smile, rubbing the material. A utility belt. The circus used to have these. Back in my Dynamic Duo days.

Wait.

Dynamic Duo?

No... I was... a Flying Grayson. Hm. Odd.

I knew right where everything would be as I looked at the pouches, gently counting them over. The smoke bombs were to my fifth, fourth lap. The handcuffs were the second lap in that same pouch. The birdarangs were to my third, first through third lap.

That wasn't right. The circus only had us carry rope, for tricks where we faked falling from the bars. Handcuffs weren't even for the magician. What the hell was a birdarang?

My head gave an annoyed pulse and I held it tightly, trying to patch in what I was missing. The Dynamic Duo must've been off some movie or book. Maybe I'd memorized where their stuff had been put in the belt from where they had grabbed things?

I didn't remember. I couldn't remember. Why..? Why couldn't I?

"Your name is Richard John Grayson!" Wally's voice broke in through my thoughts and I carefully listened, simply out of curiosity. "You grew up in Haley's Circus with your parents as the Flying Graysons! When," he stopped to cough, giving a gasp for air, "When you were nine, their wires were cut and they fell to their death! Please, you have to listen to me!"

I pushed the ceiling tile out of the way and poked my head down, looking for him through the smoke and my headache, finding a brief blur of red. Why was he saying that? Maybe he had overheard bits of my conversations with Conner earlier on in my stay and only kept pieces. I was never in the circus with my parents. They abandoned me. A part of me _wished _they had fallen. I would rather know they couldn't be with me because they were dead rather than because they didn't love me.

The roar of the showers started dying down, presumably because Wally was shutting them off, and I gave a frown, quietly sneaking out and dropping down from the lockers. I wanted to hear what he had to say, but not face-to-face.

"I'm listening!" I yelled over the water, dashing through the scalding streams with quiet hisses of pain, pulling my shirt back from my chest as blood started staining through again.

Getting a quick toehold, I scaled another set of lockers and threw a turned-off shower back on. I gave this one cold water though, more for my sake. The steam was still pretty blinding. In my landing though, I became aware of the inconvenience of shirts. I shucked mine. We could be men here.

"Just yesterday, we hid out in your room after hours because you told me your memories were built like you had just read them out of a book!" there was a pause and the roar of the showers got quieter.

I was tired of running back and forth and switching them back on, so I put my back to a set of lockers and held my breath.

"My memories are just fine! You're the one who's been reading them out of a book! I killed my dad!" I countered, clenching my fists.

As he mentioned it though, it... it... It only made sense because I was hearing it and thinking about it. My memories were just fine! I... There was... I shot dad... and... but... Where did I go to school? Who were my friends? What street did I live on? What hospital was it? What did my doctors look like? What did my house even look like? Why couldn't I remember?

"Dick, you didn't! I promise! The nurses took you into this room and altered your memories... please... let me prove it."

He sounded closer, a bit too close, and the slightest bit more confident. I turned around- he was just a bench away. I went to go jump, getting my foot on the handle when his hand closed around my wrist. I flinched and tried to draw back, but for once, he wasn't forceful. His hand was soft and he drew it back when I stopped protesting. I looked down with a soft sigh, seeing with surprise that I was still holding the utility belt. His eyes were more on the cut on my hip, I could feel it, but my attention was only on that belt.

"I found this up in the ceiling," I said quietly, tightening my fist around it. "I know where everything in it is. And... and when I was looking... I remembered it with the name 'Dynamic Duo'. I don't know who they are... I don't... I don't know what this is... Why do I know where everything goes in it?"

He knew this much about me, so he thought... maybe he'd know this too? The pounding in my head was getting to be unbearable.

The yellow belt. Yellow like the spandex Wally wears. He doesn't wear spandex. But... But I remember it. And there was... red... red like my vest. Red like Kaldur's vest. Red like the S on Conner's shirt and Megan's hair. But they didn't wear any of that. _I _didn't wear any of this.

"My head hurts," I barely choked out, holding my temples desperately.

My thoughts were faster than I'd ever heard them_ fast fast fast like the flash like the kid Kid Flash just a blur like Megan's eyes when she flies by green like Artemis' outfit and her bow when she slings it I was 9 been doing it since I was 9 shot shot like Conner but he wasn't fazed because he's Super Superboy like Superman with the S and the strength like Kaldur swimming in Atlantis with fish and Tula dead deader than dead with Jason no no Jason please explosion and the grave buried like my parents and the memorial with the rich man and his butler the car ride to the big house but it's bigger on the inside with a cave and-_

I had dropped down to my knees at some point and there was a hand on my shoulder, but I couldn't feel it. All I could feel was the headache. I didn't get it. I didn't want to get it. I wanted it all to go away.

"Wally," I breathed, pressing my fingertips as tight as I could into my head.

My hands were lifted up and now I was crushing something softer. Hands probably. I couldn't open my eyes.

"Who are-... I..." I didn't remember the tears welling up in the first place.

I just wanted to go home to _there was no home no home we're the kids who have no one kids for justice like the league we were the Kaldur Wally Roy me first time the league's been whelmed why isn't Conner was in a tube and we were chained no Batman'll have our heads head of the table Tim was there where's Bruce always gone always worse now that Jason's gone but Alfred still tries to make us family dinners Megan cooking kitchen with there was fire and the robots Red Tornado distraught no you can't get traught get traught I was 9 my friends super powers I never had any but I could I could save them save them like I could've saved Jason and Tula and that big mountain with the ship ship with the shape with the bioship bioship boys are harder to Miss M she can where are they I have to tell Batman where's Batman no I can't can't lose another Wally please pick up please no no I can't can't lose everyone Tim run you have to-_

I screamed myself back through my thoughts, tears making my face feel sticky. Or was that water? When did I get under a shower stream? I weakly cracked my eyes open, managing to make out Wally's shape through what the water distorted. He looked _wrecked_, a little better now that I had my eyes open. Seeing him, everything hit me one last time and I dove forward, clinging tight to him. He gave a gasp, gingerly putting an arm around me.

"Dick, are you...?"

I leaned back, still lightly holding my head.

"I remember, KF. We have to get everybody out of here _now_."

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	21. Chapter 21

**I'm so sorry that this is so late. I've been trying to get it up for a while, but my computer is still broken and I've been plagued with some pretty nasty writer's block. I'll get the next chapter up in the next two days hopefully. **

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Dick's POV:

I'm not sure you can relate when I say this, but it felt like I had just woken up from a good night's sleep after a really bad dream. My heart and my stomach were still throwing a fit, both trying to sort out what was dream and what was reality as all of my memories slowly started resurfacing. My mind was the battlefront and my memories were the plain-clothed soldiers, not quite sure who they were fighting for. Amid the confusion and panic, there were a few soldiers who were entirely certain, confidence in every pull of the trigger.

One of the soldiers were the memories of Wally, and compared to the teen in front of me, the battle didn't seem half so bad all of a sudden.

I knew he was rapid-firing questions at me, trying to figure out what I had remembered, but suddenly, I was just swept with relief that he was okay. With the more confident soldiers in my head growing in number, I was remembering the last time I had seen Wally where I had fully remembered him and... The smallest smile crossed my lips and I couldn't help but pull him close again, balling the stupid white shirt up in my fists as tight as I could. For a second, I swore that I had ripped it, but it was the least of my worries.

"I saw them drag you away," I remembered with the slightest of a break in my voice, pressing my eyes against his shoulder as tight as I could without gouging them out, "There was... there was so much _blood__...__" _

I felt his hand gently patting at my back, stiff and awkward in a fashion, but I... I needed this.

"They changed their M.O. and brought legitimate weapons. In the mess... I couldn't... I just heard you scream and then I look over and... and you're on the floor, trying so hard to crawl away. I was going to... I tried to save you, but... I'm... I'm human. That's it. I couldn't fly over, pull you away with my mind, make an earthquake... I was helpless... and thought... thought I..."

The 'Boy Wonder' in my title could be replaced with 'Blubbering Wimp' by the time I took the hint and released him, stepping back and letting the shower head hide what few tears had slipped out during my attempted gouging-process. It was easier to see this time, to see him, and it only made things hurt that much worse.

He looked so _afraid. _

I knew Wally. He was my best friend, after all. Wallace Rudolf West, a junior at Central City High School and a pain in the ass. A soul-sucking ginger with two annoying little cowlicks right in the front that he manages to keep looking natural. The teen with the eyes that somehow manage to match with almost every tint on an emerald, a bucket full of freckles dumped over the bridge of his nose. The dumb little indents on the sides of his jaw that keep the flat from being a relatively straight line- "even your jaw isn't straight, Walls"- with the even teeth and the bump in his nose from where he had broken it on my last birthday in a bounce house.

God, I had missed him.

I guessed the corpses in my head were starting to show in my face, or maybe I still looked pretty wrecked, because he touched a delicate hand to my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Hey, look, I'm okay," he let go and moved his arms dramatically, giving a range of motion, "Nothing broken," and then he pulled my hand up to his pulse, letting me feel before pulling it back, "and my heart's still beating. It'll take more than... whatever got me... to take me out. You should know this by now."

His expression lightened when I gave a little laugh, wiping my cheeks off for good measure before nodding.

"Should've figured you'd be too stubborn to die," I grinned, staring off at the lockers for a moment.

The enemy soldiers had thinned out drastically and I was starting to get a feel for what all had happened. The majority of it was still a mess, collapsed buildings and frail frames gasping for breath, but it wasn't hard to pick out the basics. I could probably fill him in at this point. That's probably what he was asking about when I zoned out.

"I guess I could-," I started to say, but he had managed to get his mouth open before mine.

"What's that on your hip?"

I paused, trying to figure out what language he was using to ask me what I remembered until it all kind of set in. Hip. That was a body part. Mine. I mean, there were a lot of battle related injuries-

Oh.

That's. That's odd.

"Well, I'm going to say that it's blood," I decided after a moment, laughing as he punched my shoulder.

I guess sarcasm isn't the way to go when you've got a flesh wound going on. Forgive me for trying to lighten the mood. Jeez.

"Sorry," I gave a little smirk and he seemed to calm down, "I uh... gimme a second."

I turned so the water would wash off the worst of the dried blood, easing some of it off with my nail. I recognized that it was words, but the translation took me a little longer than I'd like to admit.

"It's Romanian," I recognized, chewing my lip in thought before deciding the r was actually a v. "It's not grammatically correct, in any sense, but I think it's supposed to say, 'She's alive'. Addressed to you, actually."

And as I stared, little wires connected in my brain and I knew what I was doing. The writing was at a slant, not to mention upside-down, and from the angle, it was obvious that _I _wrote it. The depth was thin, just barely having broken the skin, and the curves were more square than anything meaning I had a slanted blade... most likely a scalpel. It had already started healing over, scabbing in some places with the occasional bruising... it was at least yesterday, but I didn't remember doing it. I couldn't remember where I had seen a scalpel... I couldn't remember-.

"The iron door."

I barely managed it out before his eyes grew wide, brow knotting down tightly.

"Whatever I saw behind there... I don't remember, but it was enough to make me carve this into my stomach. We'll have to get in there at some point and investigate," I rubbed at my elbow for a second, reaching back and turning the shower off.

The air was cold, but it helped me think.

"How? Even if we do find a way to get in there without alerting the guards, that gas-," I cut him off by unfolding the utility belt and pulling out two thin pipes.

He stared.

"They're like miniature oxygen tanks. Batman and I use them when we needed to get in through an underwater entrance usually, but it should work in a case like this," I smiled confidently, sliding them back and folding the belt again, hiding it in my pants pocket.

"Batman?" he repeated, his face all but saying that was the stupidest name he had ever heard.

Right. I guess I had a lot to explain to him. There wasn't enough time here though.

"I'll have to explain it to you tonight."

I guess Wally knew me well enough, to the point he read my thoughts straight from my mind.

"Because that worked so well last time?" his hand touched to his neck, nails digging in this time instead of the regular hold.

Before, I may have grimaced at that, but I had a plan this time. The battle had been won for the most part and I was sketching out a new line of attack, the blueprint fuzzy on more than one half. The first step was clear as day, though.

"This time'll be different," I insisted, jogging past him to a large hamper of extra clothes, rummaging through.

He followed me, his confusion thick in the air.

"I'm guessing this means you have some big plan," he baited, arms folded over his chest.

I pulled a long sleeve shirt out from the hamper and ripped off the right sleeve, carefully wrapping my stomach and tying it off to ensure I wouldn't bleed through the next shirt. This had to be perfect.

"When don't I?" I smirked, making the knot as physically tight as I could, patting it once I was done to make sure, "but first, we have to go talk to M'Gann."

I leafed a bit deeper, drying off with the rest of the shirt before pulling out two new white shirts for the both of us. Wally took his gratefully, replacing his soaked one after drying off.

"You mean the voice in Megan's head?" he sounded doubtful, sliding on a new pair of sweatpants after he found it.

I just gave him a smile.

* * *

**-F.J. III**


	22. Chapter 22

**Go on, make it easy; say I never mattered. Run it up the flagpole. **

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Dick's POV:

The plan slowly worked itself out in my mind, factoring out every possible flaw down to the apocalypse hitting mid-escape, the more I thought on it. It would all start with getting a word in with Megan. With her memory probably still as fogged over as the others, I'd have to get a word in to 'M'Gann', but this was the only concrete part of the plan. Every other little thing could change- I had that much covered. Nothing was possible at this moment without her though. I needed her to transfer all that I remembered to the others to save time. When everyone remembered, then we could work out how exactly we wanted to get out of here. If anything, we just needed to help Martian Manhunter remember. He'd be able to give _everyone _back their memories and the riot would be too big for the staff to stop us.

Sure, it sounded simple in text, but when was a plan ever that fluid? Actually, more often than you'd think, but there was always that one chance. The baddies could hear us and extinguish us pretty fast. We could be offed like... like... Zatanna.

God, if anything... if _anything _were to be a fake memory... let it be that. If she... If _any _of us...

I couldn't focus on that. Not now. Especially not with Wally going straight for the door. I'm not sure if this was his new memories kicking in or just him being a regular moron, but either way, I had to run over and catch his arm, giving him a pointed glare.

Forgive me for being cliche here, but that boy had better be thankful that he's pretty.

"What do you think you're doing?" I pulled my hand back, already knowing what answer I'd get once I'd asked it, "Besides going out to talk to M'Gann. Look, dude, they fixed it up in my head that we hate each other. If we walk out of here looking like we just had a heart-to-heart, they're going to drag us off and we'll have to wait until I get my memories back again."

The ginger heaved a sigh, raking a hand through his hair.

"So what do _you _propose we do?" he puffed his cheeks out, the gears in his head trying to turn through years of rust.

It was odd, seeing him like this now that I remembered. Wally West was a genius, the greatest scientist I had ever met, if you could excuse his preference to use his other head more often than the one on his shoulders when it came to thinking. This kid... it was Wally, but not yet. You know when you see a photograph of someone you know, but it's from years before you knew them? It's like they're not quite finished; they're not done yet. **[1]** That's what Wally was right now, and it was heart-breaking.

"Well... we'll have to stage a fight," I gave a shrug, reaching down into my pocket to pull out my utility belt.

I was pretty sure I had some make-up in there to fake a few bruises, but that plan fell flat pretty quick. The second I looked down, something knocked me hard in the jaw and I landed back on the floor. When I realized what had happened, I looked up to see Wally with his fists still non-chalantly clenched. Hm. Non-chalant. Is the non really necessary? Or what about the cha? Couldn't we just say lant? Or change the definition of chalant. That words sounds suave enough. More fitting.

"Did... did you just _punch_ me?" I stared, rubbing my jaw in disbelief.

He gave a little shrug, as if it were nothing.

"We have to stage a fight. Come on, I know you've got some memories up in that big head of yours telling you all the reasons you should punch me right now. I ate the last piece of pizza. Broke an action figure. Stole a girlfriend. Don't hold back, big boy," he shot a wink, making it obvious that he didn't think I had it in me.

It took a while, but it seems all my nights of praying had been answered.

Keeping to the ground, I propped myself up onto an elbow and swung my feet, catching his ankles and staggering him down to my height. Feeling even, I got to my knees and gathered the worst of the things I've pent-up into my fists. I caught his thigh in the first punch, enough to turn him and keep him surprised.

"That's for all the times you tried to blow my cover," I only paused for a second, landing another to his chest, "and this is for being busy on a date when I heard Jason died," the next caught his nose, "and that's for staying behind and dying with me in the stupid simulation!"

I drew back, getting up to my knees, knowing I had so much more to punch him over. Those three were enough to make me want to pummel him down until he was pure tile, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"The only time I wanted to be alone, the only time I wanted to be Dick Grayson instead of Robin, and you just..."

He tried to copy my move in knocking my feet out, but I stepped past it and hauled him to his feet with little effort.

"That all you got, Dumbo?" he smirked, nose drawn to the side in some obvious pain.

I rolled my eyes, catching his fist in his next two attempts to catch my side, managing to get an elbow in for myself on the second try. I don't think I'd ever been so thankful that he couldn't use his speed.

"You know it's not, Speedy Gonzales," I smirked at him, ducking his third punch and backing into him to knock him down to his knees.

It was weird to feel powerful, but I was far from complaining at this point. We kept at this for who knows how long until he started to catch on to a few of my tactics, landing two or three good hits. He was still far from remembering his speed, but I could live with that for now.

"Alright, how do I look?" he was the one to halt the fight, setting his hands on his knees as he paused for breath.

I gave a smirk, rubbing my sore jaw.

"Like hell."

A laugh left his lips and he nodded, rubbing at his neck before straightening.

"Perfect. Lady's first."

I jogged over to the door, pausing by it to try and remember all that they stuffed in my head. Some things would end up being off, but I was ready for this. I held the handle, gathering my breath.

"I'm going to talk to M'Gann. You carry on with whatever it is you usually do. I'll find some discrete way to tell you if it works," I clarified, waiting until he gave a nod before putting on my best traumatized expression and staggering out into the hall.

I guess the staggering was overkill; I mean, he didn't get me _that _hard. Was an abused Dick Grayson weaker than an orphaned one? I wouldn't think so. I mean, they convinced me that I _killed _my parents. That takes some legitimately cold blood. I straightened up a bit, peeking behind me and quickening my step when I saw how close behind Wally was. This had to work. I was desperate here, especially when I saw the blue in the hall.

There were nurses coming. The nurses never came out. No. No.

I didn't have to panic long. Not with my Boy Wonder wheels whirring at this speed.

"Is everything okay?" the one approaching me asked and I recognized the voice almost instantly.

Mad Hatter. How many had they gotten into this?! More than what Arkham had, that's for sure. I gave a little cough, nervously glancing back at Wally and giving a shaky nod.

"Y-Yes, sir. Just a little... l-little fight. Tried to... settle some differences. It's okay, r... really," I made sure to avoid his gaze, ringing my hands out in front of me.

I thought for a moment that he hadn't been convinced, my heart stopping in my chest, but he gave a little nod and turned back on heel, leaving me at that. It took a bit of strength to contain my sigh of relief. I swear that I heard Wally's, but I couldn't look. Not now. I had to think now.

How was I going to ask M'Gann? Better yet, how would I convince Megan to let me talk to a voice in her head without tipping off the nurses? I couldn't write it in a note. It wasn't worth risking. She'd think I was crazy. And I'd say it's safe to assume the telepathic link was long ago broken. Loudly thinking wouldn't do anything. I had to find a way to talk to her without the nurses understanding.

The only solution I could think of at this point was speaking in another language, but I couldn't remember if Megan spoke anything besides Martian and English. I knew Conner did, though. The genomorphs drilled everything up into his head. If I could ask _him _in another language, I bet he could talk to M'Gann about it. The two were close enough that it wouldn't be weird for the cameras.

But how was I going to get away with randomly speaking some other language in front of those cameras? I needed something that would make it seem normal. There had to be something. Anything.

And then it hit me. Actually, it hit my ears. Music. Actually, humming, on Artemis' behalf. That was it. A dumb idea, a shot in the dark, but I was desperate here. I had to do _something _to get step one over with. This was the best bet I was going to get it. Taking a breath for luck, I crossed over to where Conner and Megan sat, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of them with a shy smile.

"Hey, Conner, didn't you mention something about studying Romanian a few days ago?" I asked innocently, doing my best to try and hint that I needed him to go along with it after giving the camera a quick glance.

The ebony paused, following my eyes with a little squint before he seemed to catch on. The relief was beautiful, his little shrug all I really needed.

"A little. Why?" he managed out awkwardly, brow furrowed in a way that demanded a good explanation for this.

He was curious. Good. Curious meant his mind was open and I needed a gaping hole at the moment.

"I've had this nursery rhyme in my head for the longest time now, but I keep forgetting how the end goes. Think you can help?"

It was definitely a shot in the dark. A single shot from a now useless pistol into the darkened night full of millions of zombies. It was my only hope, though.

Conner leaned back in the chair, giving a little nod to encourage me to go on. Here was the part where I resorted to basic praying, putting my hands into fists on my lap. I had to at least make it _sound _right._  
_

Speaking in the best Romanian my memory gave me with a slight tune to the edge, I began, "I need you to have M'Gann set up a mind-link tonight. I think I know what happened. Will you help me?" I paused, taking a breath, and switching back to English, "but after that, I just can't remember."

It didn't sound remotely like a nursery rhyme. I was aware of that. So very aware. I could just hope that the nurses didn't catch on. Conner's brows knitted and he gave the smallest of a smile, nodding subtly.

"Actually, I think Megan knows more than I do. What do you say? Isn't it something like..." he pretended to think, voice slipping into a smooth Romanian dialect, "Just you two? Around dinner?"

I shook my head, ignoring how grateful I was that he had caught on. Baby steps, Grayson.

"No, that doesn't sound right. I uh, I actually had my own idea on it. I've been add-libbing for a while. I've just been saying," I tried my best to make it sound more like a rhyme this time, "After lights out, all of B ward."

I was proud this time, just managing to get it to sound a little on beat. Any progress was good progress.

"What do you say, Megan?" I smiled hopefully up at her, crossing my fingers.

Her smile was full of relief and that alone was perfect. This was going fluidly. I had to love when plans did that.

"M'Gann's been singing that for a while now; kind of convenient that you mentioned it. You're missing quite a bit. Here, uh," her eyes gave a little white flicker and she too quickly became fluent, "After the nurses check, it will be set up with all. Did you remember the League as well?"

The nurses probably thought we had truly become nuts, grinning excitedly over a nursery rhyme. I was beyond caring at this point. I wanted to cry.

"Y-Yeah," I grinned wide, coughing my throat clean, "I think that's how it goes. Thank you both. _Really_."

They exchanged a glance, both holding their own grins before nodding at me, up until I was making my way back to the couch I had claimed as my own. I just barely remembered to make a show of avoiding Wally, collapsing on the edge of the sofa and curling up excitedly. Excited was too strong. I sighed it off and unwound, trying to just seem at peace. Once I settled, I caught Wally's gaze.

How was I going to tell him? There was no way he remembered Morse code. Even as a super, he struggled with it. Just nodding at him could tip the nurses off too, seeing that I'm supposed to be afraid of him. How was I supposed to... Oh. Oh, that might work.

Holding his eyes just long enough, I got out, "Yeah," bringing a grin to his face before looking Artemis' way, "Why don't we let Kaldur pick us out a movie? Any objections?"

Artemis looked up in surprise, obviously a little suspicious, but she seemed to catch the same drift that Conner had and gave me a smile.

"None," she got up to her knees, beckoning the blond to come join us, "Come on, Aqualad. You're picking. You too, Romeo and Juliet. Might as well."

She shot me another glance and I could only hope that she understood I'd explain things later. Wally crawled up beside her, giving a little wink that earned him a kick with a laugh involved. Kaldur gestured to where my feet were and I nodded, drawing my legs in closer to save him space. Megan and Conner took the sofa in the middle.

And laying here, with the team surrounding me, I could pretend that I was safe again and all was okay in the world.

* * *

**[1] All credit to River Song on that one. The quote was relevant. You'll find I throw a lot of Doctor Who references into these stories. Sorry in advance if I don't mark them all. **

**-F.J. III**


End file.
